


Winterlude (don't be rude, please be mine)

by Whatthef0ucault



Series: Because In The End, We Are Friends And Lovers (running on black gold) [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: A hint of Vacciari rights, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Real World, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bisexuality, Boston Bruins, Boston University Terriers, Christian Character, College, Colors, Coming of Age, Complete, Demisexuality, Fade To Black Option, Fate & Destiny, First Time, Fluff, Free Will, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hockey, Hurt/Comfort, Learning Disabilities, M/M, Magical Realism, Making Love, Male Friendship, Massachusetts, Mutual Pining, NHL RPF, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Soft Hockey Boys, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Winter, idiots to lovers, implied/referenced bullying (past), implied/referenced homophobia (background)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 75,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25387774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatthef0ucault/pseuds/Whatthef0ucault
Summary: Rising, confident defensive star Charlie McAvoy had his future all planned out for him. He was set to be scouted in the up and coming NHL draft, with multiple NCAA colleges showing their interest. All of his years of hard work and overcoming hardship seemed to finally be coming to fruition.Matt Grzelcyk, a quiet and undersized college defenseman with a warm smile and a high game IQ on the ice, had fought tooth and nail for his seat at the table his whole life. He finally found a home in his team at BU and with his long time best friends Jimmy and Frank.When the two met at Charlie's BU campus tour before his tryout for the Terriers, a palpable buzzing in the air was hard to ignore after each subsequent coincidence seemed to fall perfectly into place. Was it simply a case of typical, hopeful teenage hormones skewing their perspective, a happy accident of subconscious choices, or something far more Colorful at work?
Relationships: Charlie McAvoy & Frank Vatrano, Matt Grzelcyk & Frank Vatrano, Matt Grzelcyk & Jimmy Vesey, Matt Grzelcyk/Charlie McAvoy
Series: Because In The End, We Are Friends And Lovers (running on black gold) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943365
Comments: 47
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sadtrashwitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadtrashwitch/gifts).
  * Inspired by [just a touch of your love.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19343383) by [theweakestthing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweakestthing/pseuds/theweakestthing). 



> Hello! Thank you so much for your interest in my story! Just a couple of brief notes for the premise of this half AU half RPF story:
> 
> 1) It's a soulmates AU verse with soulmarks, because both of those things make everything more magical in my head. Otherwise, everything else in society is still the same as real life and fully applies.  
> 2) I have reduced the age gap between Matt and Charlie to two years, with the story starting in the second half of Matt's sophomore year (making him 20) and Charlie's technically in his last year of high school (aged up to 18) scouting BU as a potential college to attend. This changes the timeline of events somewhat compared to real life, but I tried to keep them in a good balance between realistic and fitting to the story.  
> 3) In this story, Frank Vatrano goes to BU, he's also in the year between Charlie and Matt. In reality, he went to UMASS Amherst and is only a couple months younger than Matt. Jimmy still goes to Harvard and is a year older than Matt, making the age order for this story -> Charlie, Frank, Matt, Jimmy.  
> 4) Did I mention that its a soulmates AU? Cause it's about to get real cheesy romcom in here, ya'll. The premise for the soul marks idea was inspired by a great story in an entirely different fandom, but please go check it out if you also really enjoy this brilliant premise that I tried to humbly build on. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Some characters go through significant character growth in this story, meaning they may start off certain ways and become more 'recognizable' as time passes. Also, I tagged Christian Character due to a few religious references made during the story in efforts to be authentic to the characters, but this story is in no way centered around that nor is it meant to promote any specific kind of religious ideals (I'm not even Christian myself, but I fully respect all sides of the subject, making me feel compelled to tag it). 
> 
> ~~Disclaimer #2: What is Worlds? I've never heard of that competition at all, nope, never in my life, not enough to make this story even longer than it already is.~~
> 
>   
> Here is [a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3vQNiSyISSUHKkBbdHwBPB?si=c6mEuA8RSHaqhZ8Bs8qfBg) I created for this story while I was writing it if that is also your sort of thing! (Yes, the title is taken from the Bob Dylan song Winterlude. )
> 
> Lastly, there are little links throughout the story that are there for fun if you'd like to click them, but they're not necessary in the slightest. **For my peeps not into the smut, I like to include a fade to black link you can click that will skip over those bits for you if/when they should arise, so look out for them**
> 
> **If you happen to be a reader from one of my other fandoms I write for, I am still working on those stories as well and will have stuff out soon! I just needed a break and wanted to switch things up for a bit <3**
> 
> This story is dedicated to my lovely beta and best friend [sadtrashwitch](https://sadtraswitch.tumblr.com/) for all of the work they do for me in so many avenues of my life. I wouldn't be hardly anywhere close to where I am now without them. Thank you, friend <3

A special kind of warmth reserved for shielding away cold Charlestown mornings in the dead of February enveloped Matt as he found himself nestled amongst the pillows of his familiar daybed built into his bedroom's [bay window](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/625943657616490496/matt-grzelcyks-bay-window-daybed-inspo-for). Yet, the vulnerable edges of his body, like the tips of his nose, fingers, knees, and toes, were flushed pink by the occasional cold draft creeping through the old, frosted window panes mere inches away. His eyes stayed closed even as his awareness came to know the touch of weighted, warm, intimate skin spooned into his own with soft blankets strewn over. Settling down impossibly further into that comfort, his heart settled too.

Matt stretched out cramped limbs, feeling the biting air swoop in and the chill that started its crawl up his spine. Blinking open his eyes, the third floor view of his childhood street front and the Playground across the way came into focus. His hand came to rest on the glass made translucent with frost and condensation, absently drawing shapes.

There was a deep chuckle in his hair. Matt felt it against his small of his back and saw a broader hand reach out to clasp gingerly over his own.

Matt’s breath hitched.

A brush of Color yielded across the points where their skin met, where those large fingers laced through his own, where they rubbed warmth back through the digits; fingertips previously made pink became painted with the most gorgeous, enchanting, specific shade of [Blue](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/625943667858931712/matt-grzelcyk-winterlude-dont?is_related_post=1).

. . .

A blaring alarm cut through the serenity like Zdeno Chara cutting through players half his size and age (or like a hot knife through butter, more specifically).

Matt startled awake in the same bed with a gasp as if for the first time, disoriented and messy while hitting the ‘dismiss’ on his phone.

Yet, Matt realized it had actually happened again as he panted and wiped the sweat off his forehead while pushing his still open school books away. His ever recurring dream had struck in the vulnerable quiet of the early morning like it had for weeks now with the frequency having grown in intensity over the last few months, only sprinkled a few times throughout the years before then. By now, Matt had no recollection of the real ‘first time’, but something in his mind was certain it had occurred at a pre or early teen age when the awkwardness of his life and body had just started to come together and take hold.

Matt let out a long sigh, shaking his head and their hopeful thoughts away. There was no way his dream would ever manifest with the sort of visceral ineptitude he carried to his core.

Then he froze, realizing what the blur of numbers had actually meant previously flashing across his phone.

“...Crap!”

Matt flew out of bed in his Terrier hoodie and boxers only, and flew through his morning routine in much the same way. He had slept through his first two alarms, again. He was going to be so late (meaning ten minutes early).

* * *

“I can’t believe we’re really here,” Charlie shook his head, chuckling as his dad shook the New York native’s broad shoulders playfully. “Why are we here again?”

“My boy’s gonna turn into a Boston kid, start liking the Pats by the end of his first semester.”

The ribbing brought a light hearted roll of his eyes as Charlie gave his dad a light shove in return with “Absolutely no way, I haven’t even committed here yet.”

“But BU is very interested in you, Charlie. Remember to stay open to your opportunities,” his mother kindly reminded him for probably the hundredth time. She reached over to fix the collar of his button up she insisted he wear under his heavy jacket to impress the coaches, though Charlie waved her off. At least his sisters weren’t there to see this.

“ _Stop_ , Mom.”

Charlie wandered a few paces away from their car where his parents were still trying to figure out their Boston University campus maps. The eighteen year old loved his parents, he really did. He called them almost every day while being away in Michigan during the school year. His freedom was so, so close, however, his high school graduation only a few months away. It was so close he could practically smell it...something like a strong waft of hot, vanilla coffee?

Rather, that scent preceded and then lingered after a shorter, slender, brunet with a sweet face who unexpectedly speed walked right past him clutching a trendy pink and orange adorned Dunkin’s coffee cup between his hands, sipping it like a prayer. Charlie could have sworn he even saw the man close his eyes with it for good measure. The bright red BU hoodie peeking out from under a darker outer jacket clearly screamed ‘college student’, and Charlie blinked at the sight of his little legs hurrying away in stylish, form fitting jeans and duck boots.

Charlie laughed to himself.

“Wow...this place is full of freaks,” he groaned in dread in spite of how his eyes lingered in confused curiosity from where the man had almost hit him.

“What are you laughing at?” his dad asked.

Charlie shook his head and urged his dad on with both his hands and his words. “Nothing, let's go. We’re gonna be late.”

. . .

For as religious as Charlie could be, he was also fairly certain God loved to play pranks on him sometimes. Said ‘freak’ was now standing in front of him, his parents, and the other small group of prospective students along with another tour guide sans coffee and with his polite, pretty smile on full display.

Shit.

Most of the introduction selectively went over Charlie’s head, save for when his ears checked back in at an opportune moment.

“...And this is Matt,” the other student introduced the coffee man.

Charlie silently wondered why a cute coffee addict with such a shy smile would want to give college tours to prospective students in his free time, but at least he knew today wasn’t going to be boring like BC.

“Welcome to Boston University,” Matt spoke at his queue, loud enough to be heard, and yet somehow still soft while he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a second semester sophomore, Business major, and I’m on the hockey team so...anyone who knows hockey knows there is little time for anything else.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Charlie stage whispered to himself, though the painful pinch from his mom told him he hadn’t kept that thought in his own head.

His dad piped up at the exact same moment, Matt pausing with it.

“Oh yeah? That’s perfect, Charlie’s a bender too.” The senior McAvoy clapped the back of Charlie’s shoulder proudly.

Charlie offered a pleasant smile on the outside that strained his chubby cheeks while slowly dying a little on the inside. “Come on, Dad…”

Somehow, Matt’s smile widened, and he nodded in acknowledgement. Charlie’s thoughts repeated the same sentiment that earned him that pinch, though luckily they managed to stay in his head this time.

“Very nice. Welcome, Man. What position?”

“D, you?”

“...Same, actually.” The irony of their drastic physical differences didn’t dawn on Charlie in the moment, so Matt was alone in his mirthful sheepishness which only confused Charlie further as Matt added, “Any questions about the team today, please feel free.”

“Thanks.”

Somehow, the campus that had seemed dull and tainted by it’s Massachusetts-esque appeal started to look more exciting and unique to Charlie as they were all led through the tour. The campus was seamlessly interspersed within Boston, often having no way of knowing which buildings were BU buildings and which were private businesses save for the signs on their doors. They walked through major roads and quiet side streets, even through a park or two and a bridge over the Charles River. Matt and his tour guide partner took turns explaining the historical and/or functional significance of each place they came to. It was difficult for Charlie to figure out where to turn his attention, the new sights or the way Matt explained his share of them with an exceptional knack for small details, not that Charlie was really thinking too deeply about either.

All Charlie knew was that he liked the way Matt spoke, little snippets of a Mass accent and all, and he had no idea why.

“So, my sources tell me you are currently at the National Development program?” Matt asked at one point during the tour, both of them taking up the rear of the group and trailing at a slightly slower pace.

“Uh, yeah?” Charlie paused at Matt’s question.

“I went there too actually. I graduated two years ago...obviously,” Matt grinned and looked down with the social flub.

“You went to Michigan too?? _No way_.” Charlie went moon-eyed. His whole impression shifted, knowing exactly how difficult it was to get into their program, the type of high pressure expectations a player had to meet. His body knew the kind of sacrifices he had put himself through over the last year and a half trying to be good enough for a promising spot in the NHL draft after graduation. Charlie knew he was talking to a talented player now, one who had been through it himself. “That’s so sick.”

“Yeah, spent my last two years of high school there. They were so great to me, they helped me get here.” Matt gestured vaguely around them.

Charlie stayed focused on him with a little smile.

“That’s so cool, I love it there too, I’ll have to tell Coach Granado I met you.”

“He’s still there? He was awesome. I doubt he’d remember me by now, but thanks.”

“Oh I bet he would, he remembers the greats.” Charlie’s lip curled up, giving Matt’s arm a little nudge with his elbow. The way Matt lightly shook his head only served to further Charlie’s motivation in eliciting the same response whenever the opportunity struck.

. . .

Apparently Matt was not only a volunteer tour guide for BU, but also a team ambassador for the hockey team or whatever that meant (he hadn’t really been listening when Matt explained it to his parents). After their traditional tour group disbanded, Matt led them over to Agganis Arena and introduced Charlie and his parents to the assistant coaches. Before Charlie knew any better, he was being invited to watch a practice. Considering the team was preparing for not only the annual Boston Beanpot Tournament but also the playoffs that year, it was a perfect microcosm for what his future could hold.

Matt had disappeared at some point a while ago, slipping out before talks of contracts and scholarships, and Charlie watched the sea of red and white jerseys swirl around the ice during the whole practice.

He was taken by not only the higher skill level he had been dying to play against, but also the feeling in the room among the teammates and the coaches. The BU ice rink was a space of positivity and encouragement, not unlike his own team, though with its own added personality that seemed tied to this room. Charlie couldn’t put his finger on it, but something felt different here.

"Do you see the skating on number 5?" Charlie's dad had leaned over and nudged him. "What a beaut, makes it look so easy even though we know it's not, right champ?"

"Yeah, so true," Charlie agreed, slightly distracted. He had been watching number 5. His skills in skating were extremely unfair and would put Charlie to shame, let alone the ‘A’ stitched into his jersey naturally drawing some of its own attention. Number 5 seemed to know everyone on the team and had made sure to work with all of them by the end of practice, as did the captain and other assistant.

"Gryz! Come here, will ya?" The coach called out to number 5 who perked at his name and glided over to the bench in response.

Charlie watched them exchange a few words before number 5 glanced in his direction, and he was met with a familiar, affable face.

"That's Matt," Charlie said absently, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat a few rows back in the stands, then added when his mom asked for clarification, "You know, one of the tour guides earlier."

"Oh, oh, oh, yeah. I can't believe you called him a bender," she teased the senior McAvoy with a light tap to his shoulder.

The man laughed and took her hand into his own. A slow cascade of [Green](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/625943661873627136/charles-mcavoy-sr-jennifer-mcavoy-winterlude?is_related_post=1) came to rest over their intertwined hands nestled between them.

Charlie gave an awkward, teenager half-wave to save face in case Matt wasn't actually looking at him. Turns out it was overkill as the twenty year old returned it easily and motioned for him to come over, to which Charlie obliged swiftly without looking back.

His dad made sure to get one more joke in, "Sure, we'll just wait for you here, Your Highness."

Pretending like he didn't hear or know his parents at all, Charlie walked tall and proud over to Matt with an affable expression of his own to match the other. "You all train hard out here...lookin’ good."

"Thanks, Man." Matt glanced down with that small smile for a brief second before he continued as normal. "Coach said if you wanted to warm up a little bit today before your tryouts tomorrow, you could come out, get familiar with our ice.”

“Seriously?” Charlie was floored for a moment, not at all noticing the sea of bright red moving behind Matt, filing down the tunnel to their locker room.

Matt nodded in encouragement.

“Yeah, sure, I mean, only if you think you can handle it,” Charlie smirked, thinking he was so smooth. “...You know, after your whole... practice, there.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, we wouldn’t be doing a whole lot anyway. Just very basic stuff.” Matt shrugged entirely nonchalant, barely noticeable in his bulky pads. “Besides, I’ll get a rest while you get your gear on.”

“Ah...well…” Charlie deflated awkwardly before he picked up his casual tone again. “That sounds awesome. I’ll get my stuff and meet you back here in like an hour?”

“Sounds good, I’ll be here,” Matt flashed him another friendly, wide-eyed look, skating backwards and tossing a generic practice jersey at Charlie’s face.

It caught Charlie by surprise, so much so he stumbled a bit backwards into one of the seats behind him. Even from where he was sitting, he could have sworn he saw those shoulder pads moving up and down with suppressed laughs.

“Dad, I need my stuff!...Dad! My bag’s still in the car, why didn’t we bring it?!”

. . .

Navigating the building and campus took some trial and error, but soon enough, Charlie was stepping out on the ice in his own skates and gear and the BU practice jersey instead of the red, white, and blue he was used to.

“So, what are we doing today, Boss?” Charlie joked, pulling Matt’s attention back from where he had set up one of the goals and a bucket of practice pucks.

“Whatever you want, really. No pressure.”

Charlie went through his warm ups on the ice to loosen up, albeit a bit faster and more impatient than he normally would have. All the while, he watched Matt skating around freely with pucks, seemingly at leisure before he would pick up his speed and make a practice shot at the goal. Despite the differing shots and techniques Matt seemed to be practicing, Charlie picked up on a pattern that made him tilt his head until he was sure he was right.

“Hey, you a lefty mainly?” Charlie announced as he approached, finally ready to go. He smirked knowingly even as he asked the question.

“Yeah, mainly, always felt better on that side.” Matt shrugged, paused, and then nodded back over to Charlie. “Why? Are you?”

“Nah, right side for me all the way...always felt...well, right…” Charlie shrugged himself, his chubby cheeks slowly pulling back into another wide smile as he looked down at Matt.

“That makes a lot of sense, we are looking for more righties, we have a couple graduating this year that are really good, ” Matt answered, focusing on the puck in front of him and missing the way Charlie’s eyes lingered just a moment too long

“Oh yeah? One of them your D partner?” Charlie asked, taking a free puck with his stick and absently handling it so he didn’t have to look at Matt while he asked that.

“...Yeah, actually,” Matt paused, tilting his head at Charlie, the other only knowing since the brief silence made him glance up again. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Matt replied quickly, offering a little playful smile and dropping his stick. “You wanna race?”

“‘Do I wanna race?’” Charlie shook his head as if in shame that Matt would even need to ask. Apparently he did, because the way Charlie dropped his stick in mid air and took off to the other end like some kind of cartoon before Matt could even think had both of their laughter breaking out into the arena.

Impressively, Matt was able to almost catch Charlie despite the obvious head start, only skidding to a light thump against the boards a beat after him. Somehow, Matt seemed to be the one impressed.

“Wow, you’re fast, especially for your size,” Matt commented, blinking up at Charlie with wide, blue eyes.

Charlie noticed, as much as an eighteen year old guy with a promising future and a lot of good cards in his hand could notice.

“Thanks, I’ve kinda been told that a lot. Didn’t give you a fair chance, though,”—Charlie held his hand out to indicate the other side—“let’s do it for real this time. Let’s say four passes around the creases, end at the other side?”

“Okay. You’re on, McAvoy,” Matt said, the first spark of competitiveness showing itself to Charlie.

“I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, Gr—...Gr—, Gre—, how the heck do you say your name?!”

Matt laughed a little more openly, less restrained, his hand resting on his stomach with it. The sound made Charlie laugh too.

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you.”

“Fair enough,” Charlie conceded, but was fully prepared for their race as they both moved into position.

They counted it off, together.

“3…..2…...1…...go!”

“3...2…….1…...go!”

Both men shot off from the wall at the same moment, pushing themselves down the first pass of the rink. Of course Charlie’s parents in the stands and a few of the assistant coaches were cheering them both on lightheartedly. Charlie took long, strong strides that propelled him down so quickly that he kept pace with Matt’s more rapid motions with his legs. They each took turns taking quick glances at the other as they got down to the wire on the first turn. Who would get there first? Who would cave and slow to the inside of the turn?

In the last moment, it was Matt who beat Charlie to the first corner. A mysterious extra reserve of speed came out of seemingly nowhere that enabled him to skirt gracefully under the taller man’s presence into the curve. Charlie laughed again as he slowed enough into the turn so he would turn besides Matt and not run into him.

“Yes!” Matt shouted in victory.

“How?!” Charlie called after him through the next corner.

The next straight away pulled them both back into the competition with only the sounds of metal hacking into ice and their pants and grunts of exertion filling the space. Charlie, not wanting to be bested twice, managed to push his leg strength further than he would have thought possible before as they continued to fly.

They glanced at each other again, actually catching eyes for a split second before looking forward again.

Charlie managed to gain the ground this time, edging ahead of Matt and forcing him to swing to the inside. Charlie whooped in victory as they made the turn, and he heard Matt gave him a few classy, gloved claps of congrats.

They turned the corner once more and pressed on much the same, staying neck and neck all the way until the last straight away. Charlie pushed himself as hard as he could, that competitive streak running hot and wanting to beat the older college student, though the unrestrained smiles that adorned both of their faces said a different story. He had felt his energy reserves draining with the last lap but he had pressed on anyway, and now he had a lot less left in the tank than he wanted.

He made one long stride, a second, then attempted a third to seal the deal.

At the last possible moment, like in the first lap, Matt somehow gained and passed him with those little legs, shooting just under him and pulling to the inside.

“No!” Charlie shouted, light and full of the thrill he still felt, hands coming up to his face as he let his head hang back as he swung around the other curve and slowed down with it.

Matt simply laughed breathlessly through his heavy pants, a quiet, pleasant laugh as he slowed his own momentum just enough so that he was skating backwards effortlessly next to Charlie.

“Now you’re just showing off.”

“What?” Matt asked with eyes taking on that slightly widened look once more, and Charlie couldn’t tell if that innocent look was like all of the others or if this one was particularly manufactured.

Charlie took the offered water that Matt was handing him a moment later after retrieving it from a couple of the assistant coaches with a genuine “Thanks.”

“No problem. Come on, we can practice some shooting until you feel good about tomorrow.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, or something else you should be doing?” Charlie found himself asking before he could really think about it too hard.

“Uh…” Matt shrugged his shoulders. “Not particularly. Avoiding studying for midterms and getting extra practice in before the Beanpot? Win-win if you ask me.”

“The what? You all kept talking about that all practice...”

Matt’s lips turned up, giving Charlie the impression like he knew secrets, and turned around to skate back over to the lone goal and the pucks still left out while he said, “If you choose to commit here, you’ll learn all about that. Trust me.”

Charlie blinked, staring for a moment once more, only coming back to earth a moment later realizing that his heart had somehow sped up even while he was still trying to catch his breath.

“Hey, wait—!”

. . .

They practiced different shot techniques together, with Charlie feeling like he was learning so much in such a short amount of time. He also got the chance to show off some of his own skill, met with supportive praise from Matt. By the end of practice, Charlie felt confident and as comfortable on the ice as he did at home, in New York and Michigan.

“Thanks for all of your help, today. I think things are going to go well tomorrow,” Charlie said while he helped Matt gather all of the spare pucks they had used.

“Yeah? I’m glad I could help,” Matt said, surprising Charlie when he added, “You know, I think you have a great shot tomorrow, and I’m not just saying that. I don’t tell everyone that.”

Charlie watched Matt, swallowing something thick that had risen up in his throat so he could ask in a slightly smaller voice, “You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do. I can’t make promises for tomorrow, but you seem to be what we’ve been looking for.”

“...Thanks, Matt,” Charlie said earnestly, earning another sheepish grin from the other in return.

Matt took the bucket of pucks off his hands and led Charlie over to the tunnel.

“I’ve got to put this stuff away before I can get out of here, but maybe I’ll see you around here next year?” Matt offered, with Charlie suddenly unsure if Matt looked and sounded hopeful, or if he was simply hoping he did.

Charlie stepped off the ice and turned back to Matt, giving him one last smile and the smallest hint of a wink.

“Maybe you will.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~Okay so this chapter is a bit of a shift, and I promise that it will all make sense at some point, friends. But yay for Frank and Jimmy showing up!~~  
>    
> Reminder: Background details about the AU will always be in the Chapter 1 Author's notes, but let me know if ya'll need any further clarification, or ideas? Always fun! 
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 2! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm probably crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!

Matt stared up at the entrance to [Agganis Arena](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/626578823599833088/agganis-arena-at-boston-university-winterlude) wiping the sweat from his brow as he swallowed down the pit of nerves and excitement threatening to evict his breakfast. He used to naïvely wonder if it was the early September heat adding to his delirium, but the junior knew better by this point; it was always the pre-season jitters getting to him. Even from his peewee league days playing with his best friend Jimmy, now a Harvard ‘rival’, this gnawing, tightening in his stomach fueled his urge to jump on the ice and run away from it at the same time.

Matt shook his thoughts from his head and rubbed his face, taking in a deep breath.

“You got this,” Matt said to himself as he hiked his gym bag further up on his shoulder and forced his feet to carry him into the building. “You got this.”

The open layout locker room was empty when Matt walked in, without fail, and he sighed in relief. He was forty-five minutes early on purpose, knowing the longer he stayed in the quiet of the space before the chaos began, the easier he acclimated and felt those nerves inside himself start to calm. Needless to say, he had a bit of a routine down by this point.

The first to find him there was Frank, the other ‘A’ from the previous year and, more importantly, another close friend he’d had in the year below him both during their overlapped time in high school in Michigan and on a couple of youth league teams they’d found each other on before that. Matt had known Frank almost as long as he’d known Jimmy and hockey.

“There’s the big man,” Frank flashed him a warm smile as he pulled Matt into a hand clasped, one armed hug, unapologetically happy to see him with the squeeze.

“...We’re the same size, Frank,” Matt pointed out, patting the other’s back affectionately before he pulled away. "Pretty sure you've got like, twenty something pounds of muscle on me, too."

“Yeah, but I meant big as in that draft, Son!” Frank’s hands nudged at Matt’s arm encouragingly with his enthusiasm that hadn’t seemed to waiver at all any time it was mentioned over the Summer in their texts or random get togethers. “I mean, the fuckin' _Bruins_ , Bro. It’s the dream.”

That was when Matt couldn’t hide his giddy smile that popped out, wiggling a little with the excitement that still filled him at the thought as he added, “I am still tripping wicked hard, not gonna lie.” Hearing someone else come into the locker room, Matt immediately played it cool on the outside, clearing his throat and greeting the other person before going back to Frank. “I’m— uh, it's a huge bummer for you, though, Frank. You were fuckin’ robbed.”

“Nah, it’s cool, Baby. Not everyone gets there through the draft. Just gotta keep my eye on the prize, and all the chips will fall as they should.” Frank gave Matt a wink, pulling a little chuckle from him already.

“Missed you, Vatrano.”

“Missed ya too, Gryz.”

. . .

After greeting more of the players coming in for the first day of tryouts, returning and new alike, Matt heard their Coach’s voice along with a few others echo into the cacophony of the locker room.

“There’s McAvoy...I saw that gold you all won at Juniors earlier this year, looked _pretty_ good,” Head Coach Quinn said, walking in with a tall, off-blonde, muscular man smiling at the praise. “And that all-star recognition doesn’t hurt either.”

“Yeah, thanks, Coach. It did feel pretty great, not gonna lie,” the man replied with a hint of a trace of humility leaving his lips.

Upon seeing this man, Matt was instantly brought back seven months in time: before the months of Summer vacation he hardly ever knew what to do with, pre- life changing NHL Draft moment, pre-sophomore year finals, pre- brief playoff run and ultimate defeat, pre-Beatpot victory...

> _‘My boy . . . is a bender too.’_
> 
> _‘You went to Michigan too?’...’Hey, you a leftie?’_
> 
> _‘“Do I wanna race?”’_
> 
> _‘Yes!’_
> 
> _‘How?!’_
> 
> _‘Maybe I’ll see you next year’_
> 
> _‘...Maybe you will.’_

But what the hell was his name?

Matt wracked his brain trying to remember, trying to run through so many different names that almost, sort of sounded right.

Michael? No.

Chester? Definitely not.

Caleb? Way off.

He was also trying to not be distracted by how he was sure this guy had to have gotten taller since he had last seen him, or maybe he was shrinking already before he even hit twenty one.

“Gryz! There you are, how was your Summer?” Coach Quinn greeted him knowing and proud, giving him a firm handshake which Matt returned easy and modest, the hint of the smile along the edge of his eyes.

“Uh, Good, Sir. Pretty great, honestly.”

“Great, fantastic. We’re super lucky to have you back, Gryz, truly. Thank you. Meet me back here after practice, okay? Got some stuff to discuss for this year.” The coach gave Matt’s arm a friendly tap as Matt agreed, a bit dumb with so much praise he wasn’t used to. Then, Coach Quinn’s arm motioned back to the other man. “Did you meet Charlie yet?”

 _Charlie_.

The name hit him like a punch straight to his mouth, the recognition settling heavily.

“Ye—”

“Hey, man, good to meet you,” Charlie stepped up and offered Matt a cool, charming smile that didn’t meet his eyes, mimicking the touch to his shoulder Coach had just given him.

Matt’s awkwardness was exacerbated by his bewilderment as he simply stood there. He tilted his head slightly, his arm feeling foreign and a touch too hot through his jersey where Charlie’s hand had just been. Before he could try to react, he watched Charlie walk past him into the locker room greeted by a couple of the other freshmen he apparently already knew. A solid twenty seconds had passed at least before Matt realized his mouth was pulled down, exaggerating his frown.

“Big day for him and the others, let them get settled in. I need you and Frank to help me run them through warm ups today.”

“Sure, of course,” Matt agreed easily, nodding. "Whatever you need, Coach."

“We’re truly lucky to have you back, Kid,” Coach smiled at him with the repeated emphasis, and the weird, twisting ache that had been making knots in his stomach subsided. At least this felt familiar, some sense of normalcy he could cling to.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, Sir.”

. . .

“Welcome back, Guys,” Matt greeted the group, the returning players clapping and cheering for him off the bat. He had to hold back a smile. Man, he had really missed this. “In the absence of our great former leader, Frank and I are going to run you through some warm ups before the try out drills and games today and tomorrow. Remember voting for captain and assistants run through today and tomorrow, too, so...”

Matt paused, seeing Charlie and a few of the other freshmen talking amongst themselves off to the side while Frank started to walk them through the proper stretches. They shared a couple quiet laughs, with Charlie’s eyes happening to find his own at that moment.

There it was again, that weird knot in the bottom of Matt’s gut tightening its’ hold, right at his diaphragm. He saw Charlie’s smile falter slightly as he glanced away, appearing unable to hold the contact. Something about that made Matt feel worse.

Matt’s responsibility overtook his thoughts as he mentally pushed the latter away and faced the former head on instead. He skated around behind the whole group like a silent teacher playing babysitter, testing the waters. They all seemed to quiet and become more cooperative with Frank taking over the instruction as Matt passed. He took a more steady breath.

Matt didn’t care, he didn’t. Charlie was a kid he had given a tour to and had introduced to the program and the assistant coaches. He had met at least ten others like him last year. Truth be told, Matt hadn’t thought about him very much since. Charlie had been the most interesting, sure, and he had been fun, and probably the most friendly, but that was all.

“Hey, I don’t want to hear a peep from any of you back there when you’re charlie-horsing all over the ice,” Frank chirped the few freshmen still talking with the proper amount of sass to have everyone laughing along with him, especially when he raised his eyebrows at them when they stared back at him surprised. He clapped his hands at them next. “Come on, kids, let's go.”

It was enough to get Matt grinning along with the rest of them. Sometimes, he really loved Frank.

. . .

Matt’s thoughts were now miles behind all of his concentration pressed to the forefront of his mind on the tryouts. Everything else in the world fell away except for hockey, and it was in these moments of singularity that Matt often found himself.

Playing against old and new players alike, Matt waited for the face off during one of the games. The split second shock he experienced when it was instantly passed to him was palpable. Still, he dropped into the flow like second nature and drove the puck down the ice, setting up the first play business as usual.

As Matt moved about the ice, he skated circles around most of the newer players if he ever let himself be honest about that sort of thing. He was still surprised when he found the puck in front of him first again and again, but he always looked down the ice past himself and assessed the bigger picture to outsmart his opponents. Matt’s game was just as, if not more, mental as it was physical.

On the other ‘team’, Charlie’s D line wasn’t synced with his at first, but as the game wore on, their lines ended up against each other on the ice more and more. Matt found himself impressed with Charlie’s speed, like he remembered, but he was even more intrigued by how Charlie read the ice in a similar, but slightly different, fashion to himself. Towards the end of the game, Matt had figured out how Charlie would set up for the line, how he would drive down to his own end (with the most gorgeous backwards skating Matt had probably ever seen) often setting up the counter in the corner, or his ability for a huge block in front of the net and enabling the break away passes.

On one of Matt’s drives, he passed off the puck in the neutral zone, watching the way Charlie read the movements of the smaller sophomore forward he had passed to like he could read his thoughts, and drew him in purposefully to force him into the corner. Matt changed positions in anticipation outside of the battle, indirectly showing the others where to fill their gaps while Charlie and the other continued to shove each other and stab at the pinned puck.

Subsequently, the puck came loose, Charlie easily winning the strength battle, getting it free and sending it back down. Matt was called back for the change out, and he caught the way Charlie threw a smirk at the smaller forward as he, too, came off the ice.

"I'll go easier on you next time, Man, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you look good, too," Charlie chirped, dripping with a combination of arrogance and faux friendliness.

The sound of it, the stupidity of it, the familiarity of it all spelled out a specific kind of condescension that lit a rare fire in Matt’s core.

. . .

Feeling a metaphorical heat to his right, Charlie's eyes curiously trailed over of their own accord and saw Matt staring at him, no, _glaring_ at him.

Charlie was so startled by the look he blinked away without thinking. It wasn’t intimidating in the slightest, his quick double take glance back confirmed that as Matt’s sky blue, wide-eyed glowering with his mouth pouting out slightly instantly reminded Charlie of an angry kitten more than anything. It was simply fundamentally different than the entire vibe Matt had given off since they’d met all those months ago.

“Whatcha looking at?” Frank nudged him, pulling his attention away out of instinct.

“‘What _you_ looking at?’” Charlie asked back in fake mockery, giving him a playful shove, making both of them laugh. “Nothin’, nothing at all.”

Nonetheless, the moment Frank was distracted (which didn’t take long for the social butterfly), Charlie couldn’t help but shoot a cocky smirk over at Matt. The adrenaline regarding his performance was still buzzing through Charlie’s head. He was going to make the starting team, and he was going to make it in the top two lines. He knew it, he just had to. He could feel it in his bones. It felt fantastic.

Besides, what the hell did Matt have to be angry about? He didn’t even need to be here. He was completely set; _he’d_ been drafted, somehow, Charlie still didn’t get it.

He saw how he’d made Matt’s brow furrow more when the other looked away, and a little thrill of satisfaction welled up inside.

That felt even better.

. . .

Both teams were tied 1–1 as the game was coming to its close. Coming through the formation, Charlie was absolutely in his element as he took dives and blocked pucks that most probably wouldn’t have tried to go for, his timing nearly perfect on each one. He had been fearless through the whole game, having taken most of the shots to his own body rather than let them get past him and go to the goalie.

With the other teams next line change, Matt was back on the ice and in his line of sight once more. Charlie got the puck and looked for an opening, Matt following his eyes’ every movement as if he could read his mind. It was really kind of annoying.

Charlie had the puck, blinked, and then it was gone. Turning around, he saw it gliding down the ice where Matt had managed to knock it free. The smaller man was charging down after it in a rare breakaway, and Charlie scrambled after him. Charlie found himself neck and neck with Matt as they got to the end. Then the little shit beat him in the race to the wall and swooped the puck around, under him, and back out the other side.

" _Shit_."

The satisfied look on Matt's face was short lived, though not as short as Charlie's attention span on it. Within moments, the puck danced around from team member to team member, and Charlie huddled near the crease.

In a flash, he saw a brief glimpse of the number 5 and Matt's high shot for the sweet spot. Charlie dashed to the side, blocking the hard hit from going in.

Charlie smirked further, his eyes going back to Matt. He barely caught the way all eyes were still down, or the way the play was still occuring, and definitely not the way the same forward from earlier had taken advantage of the distraction, finding the hole that Matt had been looking for and sinking the goal.

The blaring sound of the goal horn in Charlie’s ears sounded like failure. He hung his head in frustration. His efforts had proved fruitless, the ‘game’ closing a minute later with his team unable to rally a comeback.

“Good job today, everyone, great efforts put forth...”

That’s when Charlie’s head tuned out the coach while he stared at an indiscriminate spot in front of himself, not wanting to hear the fake platitudes or any kind of false hope he could potentially latch onto. He had blown it. There were so many things he could have done better, no, _needed_ to do better next time, already mentally cataloging them all for their second day of tryouts and their first official practice if he had been good enough to actually make it on the starting team to begin with. He had to have made it, or almost made it...right?

“Before we end tonight, I did want to remind everyone to turn in your vote for captain and assistants by the end of the day tomorrow. Results for today’s and tomorrow’s tryouts will be sent out the day after tomorrow. Good job again, guys. Good luck, tomorrow!”

The clapping that sounded through the arena following the coaches’ own felt and sounded very far away. Charlie couldn’t bring himself to join in.

* * *

“I’m an awful person.”

“You’re not an awful person, sounds like this kid is putting you in a totally awkward position.”

Jimmy sat across from Matt in the Raising Canes speaking sagely with a clutched chicken tender moving with his words. Matt took comfort in watching it while he sighed as another small wave of stress tried to come over him.

“I just don’t understand _why_.”

Matt had forced down most of his food already even if said stress had taken away his appetite that morning upon getting ‘The Email’ (i.e. the list of names on the starting and practice rosters). Had he been a freshman again, he’d have been just as anxious about just getting on the list in the first place (Matt certainly didn’t miss that pressure). It was reading the name _‘Charles McAvoy Jr’_ on the starting list that had completely ruined his mood, and by consequence, his appetite (though the Jr piece had been a _hilarious_ treat, at least).

“Yeah, you don’t do too well with not knowing things,” Jimmy smiled between the lines, and Matt rolled his eyes at his best friend’s very obvious reference.

“Hey, you weren’t exactly calm about _that_ either when it happened,” Matt countered, then easily offered, “You want a refill?”

“What? We were only seven. But yeah. Thanks, Bro,” Jimmy passed Matt his empty cup, leaving behind a trail of deep, golden [Yellow](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/626578999208034304/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) streaks across both of their fingertips before Matt walked away.

Returning a minute later, Matt set the cup down in front of the other once more and spoke as if there had been no interruption, “I don’t know what I expected, or wanted. I mean, I hate to say it, but he’s good, really, _really_ good. It’d be so stupid and wrong to not have him on the team, and yet…”

“Now you gotta deal with the fuckin’ kid all year long. I feel you, we have our own divas over at Harvard.” Jimmy seemed to finish his thought while adding his own. “You just learn how to keep your distance _and_ your proximity, yanno? Like when your head starts hurting right about here,” Jimmy leaned over the table and touched at the top corner of Matt’s head above his hairline, right about where he always got his migraines. “That’s when you get the hell out of dodge.”

Matt laughed and batted his hand away, [Yellow](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/626578999208034304/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) swallowing over the other’s hand and wrist, matching his own palm, and calmly fading out across both without notice. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. Just deal with him, get over it.”

“No, don’t let him walk all over you either. Seriously, hold him accountable, Dude,” Jimmy pressed, though his tone was still gentle and complementary to Matt’s. “Sometimes little fucks like him respond well to that too, it’s weird.”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Matt sighed, glancing at the clock once more as he could have sworn his head actually started to throb at the thought. “I gotta head over there now actually.”

Both men got up and walked out of the restaurant, exchanged their classic secret handshake, and pulled in a hug just a beat too long with promises of their next meet up. Matt watched Jimmy head off in the direction of the bridge across the Charles that separated Boston and Cambridge with a small echo of the anxiety that used to crop up every time they used to part as kids gripping him as long as the golden [Yellow](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/626578999208034304/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) took to fade away from his own skin. It was only after it had disappeared completely that he finally turned away.

. . .

“Charlie, you got that?” Matt asked Charlie for at least the third time while he went over a new drill with the whole team they were going to use that day, Charlie having cracked another joke with his friend.

“Yeah,” Charlie waved him off.

“Okay. So, can you show me?” Matt pressed, watching him expectantly.

Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed with the challenge, watching him for a moment while trying to think of what he could say to get out of it. Then Matt beat him to the punch.

“It’s cool, I’ll show everyone, _again_.”

Matt seemed unphased by the collective groans around the room.

Charlie appeared unphased by the collective glares he received in retaliation, only giving himself away when he shot one over at the assistant captain himself. The bored expression he got in return only egged on Charlie’s momentary rise in blood pressure.

. . .

“...What’s with Matt?” Charlie asked Frank, having warmed back up to the amicable sophomore quickly over the last couple of days.

Although they’d only shared one year together at the National team in Michigan, Charlie’s junior and Frank’s senior, the younger found himself clicking with the older in this environment just as easily. Frank knew how to take a joke, how to roll with the punches, he didn’t take everything so seriously constantly. He was like a breath of fresh air compared to Matt who couldn’t seem to give Charlie a leg to stand on, even an inch to breathe.

“What do you mean? He’s Matt,” Frank asked, both of their gazes watching Matt skate around the ice helping to lead his breakout group through the drills again even though Frank’s group had long since finished. Somehow, none of the guys seemed to be hating it, still following Matt’s lead without issue.

“Yeah, but doesn’t he seem a bit…”

“Tough? Hard-working? Pent-up?” Frank asked, to which Charlie agreed immediately, then did a confused double take with the last one. “Yeah, I keep telling him he needs to get some.”

“Righ—Wait, what?” Charlie hit Frank’s shoulder, flabbergasted at the sheer bluntness of the other.

“What? All I’m saying is, those are good, uh, _attributes_ to find in another,” Frank said, coy with a raised eyebrow.

“...Have _you_ —?”

Frank sighed like he was lamenting a great tragedy. “No. It’s a damn shame being straight sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah, true that…”

Even to Charlie’s ears, his words sounded weak, but he had been so conditioned to go along with the ‘Hetero narrative’ no matter what, at least until he knew who he could trust.

The way Frank tilted his head at Charlie and blinked expectantly, he knew he was both caught red-handed and staring at one of those trusted individuals. He thought back to high school, stolen moments in locker rooms with a curious teammate here or there that Frank had walked in on and had been exceptionally cool about, and felt stupid for doubting he’d be any different now, at this level.

“ _I’m just saying_ ,” Frank emphasized Charlie’s stupidity in code before following in a more normal voice with “Whoever ends up with that dude would be one lucky son of a bitch.”

Charlie should have figured Frank would be biased in this situation, having served as assistant with Matt last year, as a freshman no less (he briefly wondered what kind of impression Frank could have made in two days and then remembered it was _Frank_ he was thinking about).

Still having no idea how they ended up here on this topic, Charlie changed the subject, “I hope you got elected captain, I voted for you.”

Frank shot him a disbelieving look, holding it so long that Charlie almost asked, but then he was laughing quietly and shaking his head at him instead. “I love ya, Kid, but that was stupid. One: I am not captain material, like, at all. And two: I’d never win anyway, and I’m perfectly fine with that.”

Charlie furrowed his eyebrows, so utterly lost. “What? I mean if not you then who?”

Everyone else had reconvened nearby during this discussion outside of Charlie’s knowledge, that is until Coach Quinn started speaking. Frank motioned to said group in response, silencing them both.

“...With an overwhelming majority, your new Captain for this year is….”

A thudding roll of sticks against ice sounded out dramatically as if on cue and then stopped. Following the scattered laughs that filled the space, the coach finally declared the name.

“... _Matt Grzelcyk!_ ”

In the same moment, Charlie and Matt’s mouths fell open in shock.

Charlie recovered much quicker than Matt, who seemed to be torn between smiling and hiding away from all of the overwhelming praise as everyone cheered for him, including some of the coaches as well. The look on Matt’s face sobered Charlie, his humility and shock coming off of him in waves so genuine even in the face of such obvious admiration and support.

“Wow....thank you guys so much,” Matt finally said, voice sounding far away as he took his Jersey with the large C stitched in the corner from the coach with a firm handshake and laughed at yet another round of cheers and applause. “I won’t let you down, Go Terriers!” He managed to get out through the ruckus.

“Okay...okay fine. I stand corrected,” Charlie begrudgingly admitted.

“Get used to it, Totes,” Frank said, ruffling the younger's hair before heading off to hug Matt, leaving poor Charlie stranded among all of the celebrations.

* * *

With his classes cancelled for the day and none of his friends answering his attempts to hang out, Charlie decided to head to practice once it had gotten close enough that he could excuse himself getting there a whole thirty minutes early. The freshman walked into the locker room with his headphones in, hip-hop blasting in his ears while he was caught up in texting one of his newer friends he’d made, a cute girl from his Bio 101 class. He totally had priorities.

Charlie was able to multitask so well, standing in front of his stall with his thumbs flying, lip bit in amused concentration as he sent back a witty one liner. Once he was satisfied with the response, he finally removed his headphones and put his phone away in his bag. The locker room was starkly quiet in comparison with the only sounds consisting of Charlie already getting to work in taking his gear out to change.

Turning his head to the side, Charlie caught an abrupt eyeful of a small hockey captain sitting a few stalls down already in his own gear, staring right at him.

“Oh, fuck me!” Charlie jumped with a fright, his hand coming to his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Uh…” Matt blinked at him while slowly half smiling and half looking at him with worry, obviously having been waiting there a while. Charlie wanted to sink into the floor. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, I just...what are you doing here? Why didn’t you say anything?!” Charlie interrogated briefly. Apparently, something in his tone was funny with how Matt’s smile tried to twist bigger even with his efforts to keep it at bay. Charlie’s question was answered, however, as Matt held up the book in his hands he’d been reading.

“Shut up,” Charlie said.

“I didn’t—” Matt started.

“I know.”

Charlie glared at his gear while he changed and pulled it on quickly, seeing how Matt turned his back to him respectfully and kept reading like nothing had even occurred. The silence was odd and deafening, though, when only the clicks and rustling sounds of Charlie's movements lingered once again.

Charlie needed to fill it.

“So, uh, how’s it going?”

“Fine,” Matt replied, entirely neutral while turning a page.

“That’s good…” Charlie offered, frowning to himself when Matt didn’t continue the conversation like expected. “What’re you reading?”

“Just something for my major.” Another flat answer.

“...Which is?”

“Advertising.”

“Huh...that sounds interesting,” Charlie commented, having not expected that at all to come from Matt—maybe an English major or something more stuffy and bookish.

“It is actually,” Matt’s tone finally perked up a bit. “Just switched over, so much better than regular Business Admin stuff, more creativity and all.”

Charlie, having finished changing, found his curiosity getting the better of him as he took those few paces over towards Matt’s direction to stand in front of the other while they spoke. “Is it really? I mean, I guess I have always wondered how they get people to want to buy stuff.”

Wow, Charlie was really selling himself well in this conversation, too.

“Yeah, it is. It's kind of like where Psych and Business come together, with a bit of Art thrown in.”

“Sounds like you’re good at it.” Charlie cracked a grin at Matt. “Selling it real well right now.”

“Ahh well, I don’t know, still really new to it,” Matt busied himself with putting his book down and away finally.

“You know, no disrespect at all…” Charlie started, waiting for Matt to stop and look up at him as his curiosity burned hot behind his lips. “But, like, why are you even bothering?”

“...What?” Matt asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he attempted to understand Charlie once again.

Charlie shook his head as he realized how much of a dick he must have just sounded like without meaning to, holding his hand up while he spoke. “No, I don’t mean like—, like, you’re set. Right?” Charlie really hoped that made sense. “You got drafted, so you don’t need to work so hard, even though it's cool that you do. I just don’t get it, personally.”

Matt watched Charlie while he took all of that in, following along the twists and turns of the logic before it all crash landed at the end, nodding long and slow. Something changed across Matt’s face, something akin to recognition, maybe something so far as understanding meeting his softening features. Within a moment, Charlie felt like those unfairly pretty eyes were looking right through him.

“I don’t know, I just—” Matt started, looking like he was trying to find his own words. “Hockey might fall through, might get injured and be unable to bounce back, or maybe my career could have to stop short for whatever reason. Maybe I get a strange fever and lose my love for playing hockey one day and want to walk away,”—Charlie chuckled a little bit at the comical absurdity while he continued to listen —“I just like having something to fall back on, yanno? I like having options. And, I’m here anyway. Might as well take advantage of the great education, too.”

“Ah,” Charlie said, not expecting Matt to give a real, honest answer, let alone one that was so well thought out and wise, making him feel incredibly small. “Well, that makes a lot of sense.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard this a million times by now, but what’s your major?” Matt asked him that dreaded question curiously, though Charlie was unable to detect a drop of judgement in his tone.

“Eh, don’t really have one yet,” Charlie shrugged his broad shoulders. “Just Gen. right now.”

“Nothing wrong with that, especially with your first year. Besides, pretty sure Frank’s still in your boat too,” Matt offered his support freely, moving to pull on and lace up his skates next, giving his hands something to do.

“Thanks…” Charlie trailed for a moment, looking over Matt, trying to figure him out. Why was he being so nice all of a sudden? “Appreciate that, though not sure if Vatrano can commit to anything outside of hockey.”

Matt glanced up at him through his eyelashes and grinned, subsequently pulling one out of Charlie himself.

“McAvoy!” Charlie’s new D partner on the second line greeted him along with a few other guys as they all came into the locker room together. “What’re you doing here on Gryz time?”

The chirp pulled snickers from mostly everyone, including Matt, though he simply shook his head without a comment back and resumed his task at hand.

“I don’t know, must be something in the Mass water getting to me,” Charlie joked back, glancing back at Matt who seemed to not be paying attention any more, or at the very least no longer engaging as the conversation moved past him.

“We still on for later at mine? Supposed to be wild tonight.”

“Hell yeah, Bro. Count me in,” Charlie answered regarding the party they had planned on throwing, none the wiser to how Matt excused himself from the space.

* * *

“ _McAvoy_.”

A stern, overly familiar voice rang in Charlie’s ears in the most painful way, stabbing into his hangover marinated brain. He was only almost three months into his freshman year and he really, really needed to lay off of the ‘socializing’ multiple times a week if he was going to make it to his first Christmas break.

“What?!” Charlie snapped back before he turned to face the consequences all wrapped up in the form of the shorter man he predicted to appear before him. He didn’t have the energy for this exchange at all. He felt like utter shit, having spent most of the day sleeping until practice. “Listen, I know I’m late—”

Charlie found his back hitting the border between his stall and the next, having been backed into it through Matt’s sheer approaching presence and the dead seriousness plastered over his face.

“Thirty minutes late, for the third time actually—”

“Twenty,” Charlie corrected impulsively, and immediately regretted it as that vein in the side of Matt’s neck that bulged out when he got this angry disappeared. Matt was somehow, suddenly, entirely calm, which was just plain creepy (and sort of hot...wait, what?).

“I don’t know what your problem is,” Matt started, speaking very carefully and pronounced. “But just because you’re _good_ doesn’t mean the rules don’t apply to you like they do everyone else. You need to be here on time, every practice, unless you have a legitimate reason, and you need to give your all at practice the same way you do when you, oh I don’t know, seem to go against team strategy? Or, interestingly enough, when particular scouts are rumored to show up at this game or that game.”

Charlie’s headache-squinted eyes widened at the brutal honesty being thrown up at him. His heartbeat picked up underneath Matt’s hand poking into his chest with his next words.

“We have to work _together,_ even if we don’t like it. And if it’s one thing I won’t tolerate on this team, its blatant disrespect. This shit stops. Now.”

“I—” Charlie started to defend himself, but Matt was already walking away from him, Charlie watching the retreating number 5 and the ridiculous last name plastered over the shoulders. Only now, with Matt out of his personal space and with him sucking in a much needed breath that Charlie registered his neglected need to breathe all together.

“You’re on team laundry for two weeks starting today,” Matt called back to him without looking.

“What? You can’t do that!” Charlie yelled back, grimacing at his own voice immediately.

Matt stopped at the entrance to the open area that led out to the tunnel and turned to look back at Charlie, his face unforgiving and entirely pleased. “I can, and I did.”

Charlie stood there absolutely fuming after Matt left, pulling on his gear and angrily talking shit to himself. He channeled all of his self control in that moment into two realms of necessity: the responsible need to stop himself from punching or kicking any nearby surfaces and possibly jeopardizing the one thing keeping him happy at the moment and the irrational, stubborn need to temporarily refuse to listen to the tiny voice of reason in the back of his mind that knew Matt was absolutely right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave respectful or positive feedback in the comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Background details about the AU will always be in the Chapter 1 Author's notes, but let me know if ya'll need any further clarification, or ideas? Always fun! 
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 3! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm probably crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!

Charlie stared at the blinking cursor on his laptop, trying to will his stupid history essay into existence. He wasn’t dumb, at least he hadn’t thought he was, and yet the cursor continued to taunt him, practically flashing Vegas lights of 'Live Idiots Here' pointed in his direction. Papers and books were piled up on his desk nine weeks deep, some untouched and others marked up and dog-eared with evidence of his efforts. Said desk was centered and existed conspicuously within his otherwise tidy, eighteen year old clothes-missed-the-hamper-esque level of cleanliness of his dorm room.

The longer Charlie sat there flipping back and forth between his materials and the damn blank page, the more his head started to throb, his back pulled up in tension, jaw pulling his teeth tighter and tighter in the same way. Rereading the same sentence for the fifth time, Charlie squinted even closer behind his dark framed glasses as the words and meanings started jumbling and crossing, again.

“Screw this.” Charlie pushed his laptop screen down a touch too hard and was out the door moments later with his gear bag strapped to his shoulder.

. . .

The ice was so much quieter.

Charlie instantly took comfort in the way he could fill the space as he took hard slap shots from the line to the net over and over. He chipped away at that pent up frustration piece by piece with each one. He was two hours early to practice when he started, just after the ice had been laid down, the concept of time fading into the background with everything else in Charlie’s life.

. . .

Matt heard the unlikely company he apparently was going to have before practice today before he actually saw them as he walked into the arena. The loud slap of stick meeting rubber filled the air followed by a tight clinking of metal. When he did finally take in the spectacle, the number 7 flying around on the ice had his face falling into a scowl, dreading yet another Charlie confrontation. Taking a deep breath, Matt tried to prepare for the impending conflict, mentally donning his Captain’s hat (the thought of himself in an actual captain’s hat, however, was odd and creepy and he never wanted to think about it again).

Stepping down the stairs in the stands and over into the bench areas, Matt stopped in his tracks as he squinted behind his own black framed glasses, catching a sight he’d never seen before.

Charlie’s face was striking: screwed up with emotion, teeth clenched, and mouth pulled taut with another powerful blow to the net that almost made Matt flinch. Was he...crying?

Glassy eyes glanced over and landed on Matt as if sensing the disturbance. Suddenly, something in his chest hurt, ached—so recognizable to Matt in the feeling and yet uniquely heartbreaking unto everything he knew about Charlie. That scowl had long softened on Matt’s face, replaced with one more open and worried.

He watched Charlie turn his body towards him and glide to a stop a good twenty feet away, head cast down and eyes closed. It took Matt a moment to realize Charlie was waiting, bracing himself.

“...You’ve got a wicked right arm on ya,” Matt tried, the smallest hint of a wistful smile starting to screw itself over his mouth.

Charlie appeared blindsided, his head shooting up, deep blue-green eyes widening for the briefest moment. “That’s it?”

Matt’s passive shrug only seemed to egg him on.

“Seriously? Mr. Perfect here doesn’t have anything else to say?” Charlie’s hands and stick motioned to the ice where he had been moments before.

“No?” Matt swallowed down the unwitting anxiety that lapped at his insides. Beyond his insignificant worry that Charlie had gotten the entirely wrong idea about his intentions, he could tell something was still deeply _wrong_.

With the way Charlie turned away from him, Matt felt how he was already miles away again.

“Hey, you've got about thirty until anyone else should show up early like this,” Matt offered, raising his voice enough to be heard. Pulling a bottle of water out of his backpack next, he set it down on the edge of the bench wall they’d both grown acquainted with leaping over during their first half of the season. Then he turned away and quickly walked off towards the locker room.

The crinkle of plastic approaching the locker room entrance a few minutes later had Matt smiling to himself while changing out of his shirt. At least Charlie wasn’t so stubborn as to not accept his help, actually easing some of his own worries.

Coughing and sputtering echoed violently into the tiled space a second later.

Matt jumped a little with it, then froze in place. His almost discarded shirt was still stuck on his forearms, as he saw Charlie standing there, clutching at his chest as he coughed a few more times and tried to recover.

“You okay there?” Matt asked in amusement, recovering from the startle and tossing the shirt aside. He took a step forward in only his lower pads with a thin gold chain hanging from around his neck.

All six feet of Charlie's sturdy frame swiftly stepped back from the petite man topping out at five-nine with a squeaked out “‘M fine.”

“Uh...you don’t seem—?”

“I’m _fine_ , Matt, Jeez.” Charlie’s eyes looked away from him, and Matt had yet to determine if he was actually seeing fair skin still flushed from the former exertion, the feelings Matt had seen before or if Charlie was really...?

He shuffled past Matt as quickly as possible, steadfastly looking away.

"Um…well if you need anything…?"

"Okay-yeah-sure, thanks!" Charlie's words came at him in a rushed, jumbled mess while Matt watched his back disappear away into the back bathrooms.

Pausing for a long moment, the gears in Matt's head clicked along and skipped over, over, over their normal rhythm, utterly unsure of where he had gotten off track.

. . .

Practice came and went uneventfully, so much so Matt almost lost sight of how quiet Charlie had been the entire time. Matt caught on towards the end, when Charlie seemed to be leaning on his stick and staring off in the distance instead of listening to a thing their defensive assistant coach was saying, never-minding the fact that a little niggling feeling kept pulling his own eyes back to the younger man.

"...So because of the holes we're _still_ seeing, and our struggles with the away games, I'm swapping Macleod to second and McAvoy up to first with Gryz for the next heat with Northeastern…"

Matt's blistering desire to just _know_ , maybe to even help Charlie, distracted him enough that the bomb dropped right under his nose. Subsequently, everyone's eyes turned to them both in nervous anticipation outside of Matt's awareness. Then all of it dawned all at once, sucking him back into the present and catching up through the buffering and clicking in his head.

"Yeah, yeah, sounds-good-with-me, Coach,” Matt spoke much the same, as if getting his words out quickly would make up for the inappropriate pause. "We'll try some drills tomorrow, see how it goes."

Matt glanced over at Charlie once more.

"...Yeah," Charlie said with a small nod and matching voice, looking only at the coach, the lightest dusting of pink appearing across his cheeks once more. “Sounds perfect, you won’t regret it.”

. . .

"Can I talk to you in a bit?" Matt asked Charlie once they were both in the locker room, tilting his head towards the other guys with implication under his words.

Glancing across the room for a moment, apprehensive understanding was born across Charlie's uniquely rounded features, then ghosted across Matt's face and then landed at his hands. A reluctant "Sure,” followed.

Matt finally felt that nagging feeling in his chest start to subside. Nodding a little, Matt swallowed, then nodded a little more confidently with his own "Thank you," before he walked back to his own stall.

Of course, as Matt's luck would have it, today was the day for all of the cross talk and superfluous side conversations that created stragglers out of the most punctual of people. Matt kept warily checking Charlie's stall while trying to simultaneously appear one hundred percent normal to the others.

Much to Matt's surprise with each look, Charlie stayed.

"Yo so like, then my buddy, he was talking to this _other_ girl right, and I was telling him how stupid that shit is, and—" Frank was still, _still_ in the middle of telling his story to two other players going on nearly twenty minutes. Matt stood there behind the sophomore just watching, ever patient and quiet, letting his presence do the talking for him. The other two players kept looking between Frank and Matt, trying to not laugh.

Frank couldn't have cared less or even noticed really, not until Matt cleared his throat with a firm and slightly exaggerated version of his Massachusetts accent coming out.

"You all fuckin’ sleepin’ in he'ah tonight or what? I'll see you guys tomorrow, rest easy. Especially you, Frank." The chirp was thrown with a pointed finger, followed by a playful wink. “This guy.”

"What? What'd I do, Gryz, huh?" Frank returned while mirroring his own exaggerated Mass accent, the faux innocence as thinly veiled as his sideways glance that traveled over to Charlie, then back to Matt. "But if the Captain says…" he added with a little smirk and a playful salute before he was ushering out the last players.

Now alone (again), something in the air shifted.

Looking back, Matt’s gaze landed on the shape of Charlie's solid shoulder muscles showing through his under tank from where he was sat faced away on the bench with a hidden gold chain only visible around the back of his neck. Matt's thoughts momentarily trailed to the type of raw power held there, how he had seen that power unleashed in front of him on their opponents during the first half of their season. He’d be lying if he ever tried to claim that he hadn’t been swept up in the hype that Charlie brought with him, in his talent and ability to play at older levels while still being so young.

Then he saw what Matt could only mentally describe as ‘Charlie helmet hair’ with the way the other's light brown, almost dirty blonde hair stuck in different directions while still maintaining a sort of shape that was a mix between said helmet and its usual, short, floppy state. He was instantly brought back down to Earth, reminded that the kind of weight those shoulders had to hold, strong or not, couldn’t have been easy to carry.

"Hey," Matt greeted him softly, coming over to his left to set down his bag and climb over the bench. It was only now that he noticed Charlie was hunched over a book he appeared to be reading.

"What's up?" Charlie asked coolly, turning the page. He kept his eyes down on the letters in front of him.

"I just wanted to talk to you…" Matt started, trying to choose his words with care. In doing so, he somehow drew Charlie's attention as careful eyes turned to him. "...Looked a little rough earlier."

A silent huff of a laugh pulled those eyes away once more. A dry "Thanks," followed, along with another swift turn of the page that Charlie could not have finished reading already.

"No...that's not what I meant, I— fuck," Matt sighed as he rubbed at his face. Thinking too much made him go too casual, which didn't fit the serious mood, of course it was the wrong thing to say. "I'm just worried about you."

"...Why?" Charlie questioned as if the idea were ludicrous, the smallest smile appearing across his face as he closed his book and pretended to be putting it away. "Everything is great, I've got it made here."

Strike two, overly careful and serious wasn't working either.

"Seriously, Ch’alie?!" Matt gestured out towards the direction of the arena, cutting traces of his accent reborn again. Taking a breath, he calmed and composed himself once more. "Sorry. Look, team politics aside, okay? None of that bullshit. As your friend, I just want to have your back."

"...We're _friends_?"

Charlie's shoulders sagged their tensed muscles with his question, hard and defensive lines soothing over his entire demeanor, finally. The whole act that Matt couldn't stand seemed packed up and put away, leaving behind a semblance of the Charlie he had met before. Yet his voice also held a trace Matt just couldn't put his finger on, like a lost word on the tip of his tongue he couldn't recall no matter how hard he tried.

"Of course we're friends? At least we could be if we just—"—Now it was Matt's turn to ask questions that seemed to drag little chuckles out of chubby cheeks—"What?"

"You...God, Matt," Charlie’s chuckles picked up a bit more, his head shaking with them.

"What?" Matt asked again, though a small, lost smile appeared on his face with it. Charlie's laugh was pleasant, honest, almost childlike while also matching the deep timbre of someone of his size and pleasant speaking voice.

"You're way too nice for your own good," Charlie finally turned his deep blue eyes back to Matt, and the glassiness he saw before reappeared, though it was now accented both by proximity and his laughter and not whatever stormcloud had been hanging over him for most of the day. "Like, you need to be protected at all costs kind of nice."

Matt caught just a glimmer of how vivid Charlie's eyes really were.

"You're not the first person to tell me that," Matt admitted as he moved along with the conversation, not letting himself think too much in the moment lest he lose focus in the details. "Look, things clicked and made sense when we met last year, right? I mean…"

"...Yeah. Yeah, they did." The last bits of amusement left Charlie as he grew serious once more.

"Good." Matt let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding with that word, his smile reappearing and easing. "So, since my gut was right about that, then that means there's also something clearly wrong here.”

Charlie blew out a quiet sigh, rubbing the inside of his elbow held close across his chest as he looked anywhere but at him. "Matt, 'm pretty sure I don't deserve your help."

"I'm pretty sure you do."

"How do you know that?"

"Call it faith," Matt answered without hesitation, bringing up his hands. "'I don't know how I know, I just know that I know’ sort of thing."

Charlie watched him, staring back in that vivid, indescribable way again that made Matt's throat go dry somehow. Full lips pulled back into the softest smile of recognition, and finally gave Matt a nod of cooperation.

Faltering with it, Charlie's expression dropped once more and he shrugged, remorse spilling over his edges with "I don't know how it happened."

"Okay," Matt spoke kindly, scooting in a tiny bit closer. "How what happened?"

Charlie pulled in a breath before he admitted, "I am failing a couple classes right now.” Looking away from Matt, he proceeded to word vomit, "I don't know, I thought I was keeping a handle on it all. I even stopped acting like an idiot, and I’ve been trying really hard but it doesn’t...it’s like everything is out of control and it's been out of control the whole time. I don’t know why or how, like, high school sucked but not like this… and just, _everything_ revolves around my grades."

Matt frowned gently, the shame coming off of the younger was palpable and absorbent. Matt took it all in as if it were his own, remembering his own first college semester and that transition keenly.

"It's a lot, Charlie, especially in the beginning." Matt's hand naturally came up to touch at Charlie's shoulder in support. "You’ve got a lot riding on you, on top of the first semester often being the hardest cause it's all so different, but you get better at it each time."

Charlie's eyes were already hyper fixated on the skin-on-skin contact when Matt noticed what he had done. Matt yanked his hand back quickly as if they’d both been burned, acutely aware of the blush trying to spread across his cheeks and the lack of Color in their touch.

"Sorry! _So sorry_." All of the soulmate etiquette his parents had taught him from the time he had been young came flooding back at once, knowing just how intimate and obtrusive a single skin-to-skin touch could be. "I—I don't know why I did that. I just, I was going somewhere with a great line about tutoring or helping you with finals, and— yeah."

Charlie was smiling at him once more, eyes dragging back over to Matt slightly squinted like they held some kind of secret.

"It's okay, that sounds great, honestly." His voice came softer than usual.

"Oh," Matt blinked for a moment, not expecting a calm reaction like that to an unwarranted touch from a die hard, over-achieving, promising hockey name. "Well, that's great."

"I just said that," Charlie reminded him, lightly.

"...Yeah, well." Matt shook his own head, trying to untangle the jumbled mess it had suddenly become. "How about after practice tomorrow, after we go over some of our new line techniques, I...I could help you—"

"I have faith in you," Charlie interrupted and pulled in his bottom lip with that knowing grin, eyes twinkling with that amusement again while he pulled on his hoodie, and Matt was sure he was missing something, again.

"Good."

"Yes, good," Charlie agreed.

Matt stared at him for an awkward beat until he realized this was all he was going to get from the other.

"Okay well—"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Gryz,” Charlie said, getting up and leaving him sitting there in wonder. “Thanks for everything.”

. . .

The next day ran completely contrary to the former, with Matt and Charlie taking their first steps in learning how to be linemates and run plays together before the team would break for finals and then the holidays. Earlier in the day, though, Charlie arrived around Matt’s early, ritualistic time frame for practice, though the studious captain didn’t seem to mind the company.

Charlie let out a "Hey," when he entered the space, but physically greeted Matt by surreptitiously dropping a protein bar in Matt’s lap from over his head. He snickered harmlessly at the look of surprise across the older man’s face.

“What—oh, thanks?” Matt fumbled the food to read the label.

Charlie saw what he could only guess was a look of recognition come over the other’s face while he explained,“I know you’re trying to gain a little, and those are the only things that don’t taste like freakin’ cardboard. I use ’em to maintain, but maybe it would help.”

Charlie shrugged, turning away, and completely missing how Matt kept looking between the bar and him for a good half a minute.

All the while, both of them silently recalled various moments of inevitably running into each other at the gym almost every day that semester, often with a Frank toting along with one or the other either commenting about Matt’s crazy dedication to getting as big as possible or about how damn unfair it was that Charlie just seemed to gain muscle in his sleep, still.

Finally, Matt spoke first.

“...And you just _happened_ to know black and white was my favorite?” (i.e. cookies and cream)

“Call it a great guess,” Charlie said over his shoulder, cracking a smile at the way Matt narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously then relaxed it into his own gentle smile like he would when he was kidding with the others. To Charlie, it felt good to finally be on the other end of it, really appreciating the full frontal view much more than the obscured side-line picture.

Before Charlie could prepare himself, Matt was moving to change out of his clothes as both of the athletes had probably done a thousand times at this point in their long hockey careers, and at least a couple dozen times in their shared one. Breaking his gaze away most importantly out of respect but also for his own health, Charlie kept his back firmly to Matt. He absolutely did not need a repeat episode of what had happened the day before. The thought alone of Matt pressed up against the wall, of running his hands all over his leaner frame, pressing their skin close, trailing Colors or not… apparently trying to recall his high school geometry formulas as his usual go to clinical distraction was doing nothing for him today.

“So, why do you get here so early?” Charlie inquired, filling the space while he pulled on his pads swiftly and efficiently, left to right of course.

“Uh...ha,” Matt drew out the word into a dry laugh. “I don’t know, it’s kinda hard to explain.”

“Try me,” Charlie challenged, a smile coming through his voice. With the silence that followed, he wondered if Matt was going to take him up on it or not.

“...Sometimes I just, need time. Like everything moves too fast, or after a certain point in the week everything is too loud? I— don’t know...that sounds crazy.”

“No! It doesn’t.” Charlie knew before he even looked that that shy look would be on Matt’s face again. Sure enough, it greeted him as Charlie pulled the lucky number 7 over his head.

“I just like the quiet sometimes, before all of the chaos, ya know? But don’t get me wrong, I love the chaos too.”

Charlie hadn’t realized he had paused halfway through pulling the jersey down while absorbing Matt’s words, and a strange, charged sensation that made him feel anything in the world but calm bloomed in his chest.

“I think I know what you mean,” Charlie tried, words dropping out of his mouth before he could stop. The rest of his body followed suit, padding over to Matt in all but his skates and helmet to sit next to him. “It’s like...this is the calm before the storm, but you’re also stopping to smell it, right? Like, that smell before rain and storms is _so_ good,” Charlie breathed, and added “And we’re...kinda like those storm chasers, right? Who also thrive on the other parts other people wouldn’t go near, all of the destruction and stuff.”

Charlie was rambling, he was actually rambling. Was that a mixed metaphor?

The silence that followed had Charlie seeking out Matt, who had his eyebrows raised and his mouth resting behind curled fingers while he watched him.

“What?” Charlie asked, seeing Matt shake his head at him for a moment before finally speaking once more.

“In some...completely other way, I think you nailed it, yeah, somehow.”

“Pft, you wish,” Charlie muttered under his quietest breath with a smirk.

“What?”

“What?” Charlie asked back, widening his eyes in the most innocent expression and holding it until Matt laughed more than Charlie had seen him laugh yet.

* * *

The combination of birthday balloons, streamers, and gold and green garland had been a traditional late December sight in the McAvoy household going on nineteen years. Charlie hadn’t ever batted an eye about having his birthday so close to Christmas, especially since his older sister moved out for college at the same time he went away to Michigan. He now found himself with each subsequent year of growth cherishing his time he got to spend with his family all together again.

Coming home after such a hard first semester, in particular, had been exactly what he’d needed.

“When did you guys bond, again?”

Charlie asked his parents later in the day after all of his presents had been opened and good food had been cooked and eaten together. With his social plans with his Long Beach friends set for the following day, the family were all gathered in the living room listening to Christmas music and sharing stories of their times apart. Charlie was snuggled into his older sister’s side on the couch with his other two sisters also pressed in close on either side of them.

“Oh, someone wants to know about bonding?” Charlie’s mom teased, looking over at his dad to her right from their respective seats down the row on the wrap around couch.

Charlie’s dad was already smiling and throwing her a wink back, though he didn’t get a chance to get one of his quips in just yet.

“Come on, we’ve all asked you about it over the years, Guys,” his older sister defended him, Charlie remembering exactly why she was the one he was closest with.

In fact, he mumbled a silly, small “Thank you for defending my honor,” in return, granting him a little proud grin from her.

“Lets see, how old were we again? How old are we now?” His dad asked his mom, earning a small laugh from her.

“We were young, twenty? No, a little older than that, twenty-one?”

Luckily, Charlie’s older sister answered for them both again. “Dad was twenty, you were twenty-two.”

“Ah, ah yeah, we were. Thank you, hun, I remember now, yeah. Why are you asking?” His Dad looked to Charlie, the rest of them following suit in curiosity. “You have someone in mind?”

“No reason I—no. No I do not,” Charlie started and then found himself shaking his head casually, restrained from how vehemently the denial actually rose up in him. “Just curious, it might happen in general, like in college like it happened to you.”

“It might, Honey, it really might,” his Mom encouraged warmly. “Always good to keep your mind and heart open for it just in case. You never know—”

_“Winterlude, winterlude, oh darlin', Winterlude by the road tonight…”_

His mom cut herself off when the music playing shifted to [an old Bob Dylan song](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/627129093833506816/winterlude-by-bob-dylan-for-winterlude-dont-be), one of the many songs Charlie had heard over the course of his life with how much his parents loved the folk singer. His dad picked up where she left off, both of them getting to their feet without even having to say a word.

“Ah! See? You never know when good things will come your way, even when it seems bad, like having to sit through that rendition of jingle bells to get to this.”

They all laughed with the joke, with a warm atmosphere settling in as his parents proceeded to dance with ease around the living room.

_“...Oh, I see by the angel beside me, that love has a reason to shine…You're the one I adore, come over here and give me more…”_

“ _‘Winterlude, this dude thinks you're fine’_ ,” Charlie’s dad sang and emphasized to his mom with a charming wink, making her laugh and give him a loving kiss.

“Gross,” Charlie’s youngest sister, still in high school, teased with gagging sounds added, making the siblings laugh then. “Now look at what you did.”

“So Gross,” Charlie smiled in agreement, settling in again and giving her head an annoying little shove in return.

* * *

Matt’s birthday had always been a bit anticlimactic. After all, there was little that could be helped with having to follow the the grand, firework launching, midnight kiss inducing act of New Years a few days later while everyone was still swept up in their new beginnings, new resolutions, new everything. His family had always tried to make his birthday special, and it had been in its own ways.

Still, Matt was content to keep his birthday small, especially the older he got. Now twenty-one, the youngest Grzelcyk was enjoying a quiet afternoon with his mom and Jimmy at their old townhome in Charlestown. His brother would be over later, as would his other brother and dad after they got out of work together.

“Come on, you have to go out later and do _something_ , it's your twenty-first, Bro,” Jimmy reminded him. “Remember mine last year? With Brandon and the rest of the guys? Cause—”

“Cause you don’t?” Matt finished his thought with a smile, making both of them snicker with it. They sat at the little kitchen island together for one of probably a hundred times by this point. His mom was cooking for all of them, as she was often ought to, with Matt and Jimmy helping her prep ingredients as needed, of course. “Yeah, I remember, I was the DD.”

“Yeah, listen to him,” Matt’s mom instructed, pointing her spoon at Matt and then motioning to Jimmy in the process, her serious expression turning into a playful look, especially as Jimmy took the praise in the way he often did, through quiet gloating of course. “You only turn twenty-one once. Don’t go too crazy, but go out with a few friends if you want to, Honey. You’re on break, it’s fine.”

“Well, maybe we can do something small, nothing too crazy, though,” Matt caved, a little grin coming over him at the thought. He was not one for big parties or huge gatherings, though he would partake once in a while with people he liked so long as there was good music, or good food. If there was one lesson college was teaching him, there was no turning down free food.

“Yes! Good cause we already got something planned, so act surprised for everyone.” Jimmy tapped Matt’s shoulder with the back of his hand, giving him a head nod with it.

“Are you serious?” Matt asked, blinking at him. In spite of just how grateful he felt in that moment, he let out a soft groan of dread at the same time. “Sometimes I remember exactly why God or fate or whoever paired us together.”

“You’re welcome, Matthew.” Jimmy nudged Matt’s arm again, all of him entirely at knowing ease with it.

Matt simply responded by laying his head on Jimmy’s shoulder for a moment, that special [Yellow](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/627129100839141376/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) coming to light over their touching, connected skin like it had never left.

“God does sometimes work in mysterious ways, like they say,” Matt’s mom commented in her own knowing way. “You know, they say most people find their matches, any kind of course, you know, young. I didn’t match with his dad until we were in our thirties. Early thirties for me, mid-thirties for him.”

“Really? That is later than what you tend to hear, isn’t it?” Jimmy asked, sounding exactly like the curious third son he practically was as he learned of this for the first time.

“Yeah, they weren’t even dating at the time,” Matt added, having heard the story before. He’d asked about it over the years when his burning desire to understand his recurring, nonsense dream got to be too much at times, though he’d never disclosed the embarrassing secret itself. “Hadn’t even met.”

“Say what?!” Jimmy asked, his voice going silly and high pitched on purpose. It worked in pulling a good laugh out of Matt’s mom like he knew it would.

“I’m telling you, one day you’re just trying to rush home from work to your first husband, you make it to the orange line in North Station, and your silly heel breaks while you trip on to the train and right into a man who just got off of work, and you both start turning [Purple](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/627170266203717632/john-grzelcyk-sr-kathleen-grzelcyk-for).” Matt’s mom shook her head with the miraculous, storybook-esque tale that was one hundred percent true with the raw honesty in her quiet, warm voice. She’d always told the story in the same way, with the same details, and the same steadiness.

“Wow, that’s so wild.” Jimmy’s face pulled up with another smile. Jimmy’s awe was obvious as Matt tilted his head up enough to see it, surprised that Jimmy somehow hadn’t heard the story yet.

“And, if I hadn’t chosen to leave work earlier than usual that day too, might not have ever happened at all,” She added, her eyes trailing over both of them and lingering on Matt maternal and fond, which he returned with his own humbled grin.

“Then we wouldn’t have this guy, and life would be a whole lot less awesome, definitely more boring.” Jimmy gave Matt’s shoulders a squeeze, moving to stand up.

“Exactly,” Matt’s mom agreed wholeheartedly.

Matt’s smile turned a bit shy, though he was much more comfortable within these four walls than anywhere else. He stood up himself and followed suit behind Jimmy to hand his Mom their chopped and prepared ingredients they’d finished. Then, he leaned down to pull her into a deep hug for a long moment.

“Happy Birthday, Honey.”

“Thanks mom, I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you might want to go see what Jimmy’s sneaking off up to over there.”

“Traitor, mama Gryz!” Jimmy protested loudly from the central staircase in the home that he’d almost gotten halfway up the first set without being noticed, now scrambling the rest of the way up the steps towards Matt’s bedroom.

Matt ran out of the room after him, calling out, “Oh you’re not changing the campaign without me! I’m DM! You Bitc—”

“In front of your mother? Really?” Matt’s mom called back, light-hearted

“—Very mean person!”

“Mama’s boy!” Jimmy shot back, both of them knowing it and neither of them denying it.

“Cootie Queen!”

“‘Who are you calling a Cootie Queen you Lint Licker?!’” Jimmy threw back at him in his most ridiculous, girly, sassy voice in rendition of the stupid commercial they saw way too many times growing up.

Matt and Jimmy’s laughter echoed off the wooden steps and carried throughout the different levels of the home, reflecting off the panes of shared family photos that lined the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a bit of a filler chapter, but next chapter will see some little _events_ happen >.> So stay tuned! Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Background details about the AU will always be in the Chapter 1 Author's notes, but let me know if ya'll need any further clarification, or ideas? Always fun! 
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 4! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm probably crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!
> 
> P.S. some fun little examples of spazzy Matt [here](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/post/613189808600317952) and [here](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/post/615704739632627712) because yes.

It wasn’t until mid-January, just as the second semester started, that the Terriers had their first of a handful of away games requiring actual long-distance travel. The one-off Michigan game of the season had gone well, so well in fact that everyone on the team was still riding the high of their win hours later. After the team was dropped off out front of their hotel for the night, the rowdy boys exchanged further jokes to cover up the way they huddled close together to shield off the bitter, lake-effect wind while they waited to be let inside.

"I almost forgot how cold it got up here," Charlie grimaced as another arctic gust blasted across his face. He hugged his BU hoodie clad arms tighter around himself.

" _'I told you to bring your jacket, Charlie,’_ " Matt teased in a faux motherly tone, possibly even resembling Charlie's own from what he could recall.

Charlie gently nudged Matt's shoulder with his own and wrinkled his nose with his ongoing pout, determined not to shiver on the outside. He looked down and saw Matt's lip curl up in such a specific way. Was this jerk actually _smirking_ at him?

"You're so pleased right now," Charlie observed pointedly, giving Matt another nudge (i.e. making himself smaller and huddling even closer to his side).

"Yeah." Matter-of-fact and delighted, Matt gave him a light shove back, though it did nothing to move the wall of Charlie's mass. “I am.”

"How can you be this warm and this small at the same time?" Charlie whined. He was whining now. Great.

"Actually, in Biology, smaller animals—"

"Matt!"

"You're from _New York_ , ‘cahme on, Kid,’" Matt bent his own accent around and into the 'New York' with his finest Long Island drawl, then dropped back into an exaggerated version of his own Mass one effortlessly.

Pausing a beat, Charlie started giggling.

"What is up with you?" Bewilderment edged out with a hint of awe in Charlie's voice.

" _'What's up with you?'_ " Matt mocked back, a little bit of zane with no fire.

Without warning, Charlie found himself at a loss for breath or words, just a stupid smile on his face.

Matt held the look with his own amusement for a long moment, the epitome of silly. Then his shyness rounded out the edges before he looked away, with Charlie still looking on.

"...Charlie...Charlie...hey, Big Mac," Charlie snapped out of his head and the accompanying floaty sensation, refocusing on the key card in Matt's hand being waved in front of his face.

"What?"

"Let's go, come on," Matt urged, pushing on his back a little to get him going.

It was only now as they hurried into the heated lobby that Charlie saw they were the last players left.

"Thank God."

Charlie followed Matt down the halls like a lost puppy with a comfortable silence falling over the pair.

It wasn't until they were coming off the elevator and dodging all of the other guys running in and out of each other's rooms that it began to dawn on both of them.

"Is it just us?" Charlie voiced what they were both thinking as they reached room ‘7348’ matching their door key at the end of the hall.

"I don't know…" Matt glanced back down the hall one more time, holding the key card in the door before he turned back, released it, and pushed it open.

Light brown carpeting led them into a modest, vintage patterned wallpaper-lined room accented by half-wooden, half-cushioned furniture that could have been as old as they were. An undersized eat-in wooden table, forest green cushioned chairs, and a matching bureau with a built in TV stand greeted them next. Finally, situated between two cheap, identical end tables with gold accented lamps attached to the walls above them was an innocuous, lone, single bed.

Both men openly gaped, blind to their hideous surroundings while turning varying shades of pink as their eyes transfixed on the bed. As precarious as their sudden loss of control in the situation, Charlie's bags slid off his shoulders in the same moment the door automatically pulled and thundered shut behind them, amplifying the forgotten slam. They both flinched, with Charlie noticing how Matt jumped worse than him. Only the sound of their recovering breath followed them into the space.

It was quiet...too quiet, because what the fuck was there to say now?

One beat.

Two beats.

Three.

"...Are we in some kind of roma—, uh, weird book, right now, or something?" is apparently what finally came out of Charlie's mouth (i.e. ass).

Matt glanced over his shoulder at him, his face still red as a tomato, and yet somehow was able to manage a questioning look through all the pain.

"I have three sisters, okay? Just— nevermind. Who gave you that, again?" Charlie pointed to the key card limply clutched in Matt’s hand.

"...I'll...sleep on the floor," Matt squeaked out finally, Charlie only able to catch it, because they were still standing so close, that was until Matt was zipping across the room to set his own bags down.

"What? No—" Charlie hurried after him, something in his chest tightening at the thought.

"It's fine, I don't mind," Matt insisted gently.

"No, Gryz, you're not sleeping on the floor—”

"It's not a big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal!"

Charlie's hands came up with the sudden intensity of his own words, making both of them stare at the digits like they had a mind of their own.

"...Charlie?" Matt blinked at him, his mouth opening and then closing a couple of times.

"What?"

"...Why...is it a big deal?" Matt eventually tried, carefully.

"...I don't know," Charlie said truthfully, holding his hands open at his sides. He took a moment to breathe, feeling how tight his neck was in combination with the worry sitting firm and heavy in his gut. He sunk down on the side of the bed behind him, and after a few awkward moments, felt a smaller dip beside him.

"I—"

"Look," Charlie started, things finally loosening up in his brain enough to speak. "You do enough for everyone else, all the time, especially with the team. And you took a big hit in the game today, just, please. Take the bed."

Charlie couldn't look over at Matt for the longest time. It was only the unnerving silence that followed that forced his hand.

Though much to Charlie's surprise, Matt wasn't looking at him. Matt was staring back behind them both at the available bed space, sized up Charlie's body, and then looked back again. Charlie's heartbeat picked up, a small clench of anticipation pooling in his stomach.

Was he really considering…?

Matt’s big eyed, pure deer in the headlights look that turned back to him accompanied by the exact way his color faded back through those cheeks as it had before would be burned into Charlie's memory forever.

"I—I mean…" Matt stumbled, his hands wringing through each other in his lap as he cleared his throat once, "I thi—" Twice. "Think we could both, uh…” Three times. “Fit."

Charlie had to use all of his willpower to not have his mouth hang open like the idiot he truly was. That, that was not what he expected to come out of Matt's mouth in the slightest; he almost thought his ears were deceiving him.

"...Unless-that's-weird-for-you—" Matt rushed, almost leaning away from Charlie with it.

" _No_ , not weird in the slightest. That’s... a good idea, unless you're not okay with it…" Charlie watched Matt's half cowering form relax with his words, his own fluttering heartbeat starting to slow to normal with it.

"I’m okay... _really_ ," Matt stressed when Charlie wasn't convinced.

Charlie held Matt's look, getting a little more adept at swimming in those blue eyes. When he didn't sense an alarming discomfort beyond Matt’s characteristic shyness that Charlie had become fond of, he nodded, believing him. That gut wrenching urge to protect Matt from himself finally faded into the background.

"Fine...you have a favorite side?”

The pause, and then blinking blank expression Matt gave him made Charlie snort with Matt's own smile following. They both answered with shared nods in intuitive unison.

"Left."

"Right."

. . .

Much to Charlie's private relief, both of the hockey players wordlessly agreed to change into their sleep clothes for the night in the bathroom in spite of already sharing a locker room together multiple times a week. Something about this was simply different, much different.

Matt came back from the bathroom in a pair of black and gold Bruins shorts, a black a-line tank, and a small gold cross hanging from his thin gold chain. Sitting on the right side of the bed was Charlie already in his own similar attire of blue and orange Rangers shorts, a white a-line, and a slightly thicker gold chain and gold cross resting against his chest in the same place.

The latter was caught up in his phone, specifically in the series of vague and purposefully obtuse texts he kept receiving from Frank denying any part in this whole single bed, shared hotel room nonsense (despite everything in his gut telling him otherwise). Charlie’s head lifted away from yelling at Frank with his thumbs when Matt came into view on the other side of the bed. Charlie's eyes trailed down to the white-hot, iridescent 't' shape resting on Matt’s front, caught in the hazy light from the chocolate coin foil colored bedside lamps that paled in comparison to the real thing. When his eyes trailed back up, he caught Matt's eyes mirroring the same path on Charlie's torso. The younger man's breath caught at the attention.

Thick, lingering tension seemed to hang still in the air until Matt broke it when he looked back at Charlie's face again with an innocent grin. Charlie swallowed down whatever that was and returned it.

The mutual recognition of the religious symbols and their likely significance to each other settled over both of them as they climbed into bed and got settled at the same time, careful to stay in their own, albeit limited, space.

"...How'd you get yours?" Matt asked, cutting through the silence with the most conscientious incision.

Charlie brought his hand up, fingers feeling over cool, smooth metal paired with the pointed lines of the cross he normally kept hidden under all of his layers, right against his skin. Pulling it out into his own view, Charlie’s boyish face settled in, soft and shy.

Matt noticed this shift like he had taken notice of a few shifts in Charlie since before the holiday break, even since the literal shift in their positions on the team. This shift was different still; Charlie himself looked different. The lines of his face disappeared as he seemed to hunch in on himself with his broad shoulders.

"It was my grandfather's," Charlie uttered, sneaking a timid glance back at Matt before he looked down at the jewelry again. "He died before I was born, when my dad was young."

"...I never knew my grandads either." Matt touched at his own necklace and offered him a nod when he saw the other’s face look at him again. "My parents were a little older when they had my brother and then me, started late."

"Wow, really?" Charlie seemed surprised despite having sort of met Matt’s parents at their games here and there over the season. He returned to his previous demeanor as he added, "I'm sorry."

"It’s okay, but I'm sorry too."

"It’s just weird, too, ya know? After he died, my dad had to give up _his_ dreams of playing hockey to take over the family business my grandfather started and support everyone.” Charlie paused in thought before frowning deeply. “And here I am, getting to live out mine."

Something amorphous and heavy sunk into Matt’s chest, aching deeply. Thick pain constricted his chest and throat, barely swallowed over and back down—guilt. It was guilt that he was feeling, Matt ascertained, but came up empty for the answer to his ever-burning question of ‘Why?’ He felt it practically wafting off of Charlie, too, and Matt's empathetic nature took it in like a beacon.

"I think they both would be and are super proud of you, and they would want this for you."

"You don't have to—"

"I'm not just saying that, Charlie. I’m dead serious. You push yourself out there more than anyone else I’ve ever seen, like, 'the puck can't fit in the goal if I'm in it too' type of defense," Matt half-chirped with a knowing, silly smile on display as he pulled little laughs out of Charlie. He even managed to earn a snort with "Wicked ha'd working, Kid. You deserve it."

That big, chubby cheeked smile made Matt laugh as well, with that heavy prison finally releasing its hold in his chest.

"Yeah well, your work ethic is 'wicked ha'd', too. Unmatched." Charlie said, still referencing that ridiculous inside joke born out of repeated teasing of Matt's accent, particularly after practice when he was more tired and it was supposedly more pronounced. "I don't know how you just...know what to say with me, but thanks," Charlie softened.

"Anytime," Matt smiled with his eyes and his mouth.

Charlie nodded in Matt's direction. "Where'd you get yours?"

"Eh, I've had it my whole life, so I don't really know. Probably at my baptism."

Charlie chuckled once more and this time, Matt wasn't sure what was funny.

"And you wear it every day?"

"Yeah, normally tucked in," Matt said, and Charlie giggled _again_. "What?"

"You're just, so strange, just like ‘eh, I don’t know,’”—a swift pillow to Charlie’s face had him laughing harder into the night—"Hey! I like it! I like it!"

The passing of time seemed to fade into the background as consciousness melded away between hours of whispered and mumbled conversations. Neither man knew exactly when they had fallen asleep, or how long they had fought off the urge to sneak in just one more quip or to pull one more reaction out of the other.

. . .

In the earliest hours of the morning, when the line between yesterday and tomorrow blurred into the quietest, most peaceful time of day that could exist, Charlie was slowly dragged back into his body. Fleeting dreams of cold winter days and warm embraces left his head as he came into a fuzzy around the edges sort of half-consciousness.

With his eyes still shut, Charlie realized he had somehow ended up turned onto one side, his arms wrapped around the pillow his face was stuffed into. God, he was so cozy and so relaxed, half wondering where that hardass hotel mattress went he had fallen asleep on at some point. His face twitched when his awareness clued into a warm presence laying across his waist, attached to a larger, person shaped weight pressed against his back. The presence was so soothing he almost dropped back off to sleep in that little inviting corner of his head, that was until the swelling of a deep breath pressed into his lower back and was spread out hot against his shoulder blades in the exhale.

Charlie blinked open his eyes, face scrunching in confusion, momentarily forgetting fully where he was. He saw the ugly lamp attached to the wall above the bedside table and was brought back to the night before, a lazy stream of snippets of his conversations with Matt moving through his head.

> _‘“_ I told you to bring your jacket, Charlie. _”’_
> 
> _‘Is it just us?’_
> 
> _‘...I'll...sleep on the floor.’_
> 
> _‘It_ is _a big deal!’_
> 
> _‘I—I mean…I thi—..think we could both, uh...fit.’_
> 
> _‘Fine...you have a favorite side?’_
> 
> _‘Left.’/‘Right.’_
> 
> _‘It was my grandfather’s…’_
> 
> _‘I think they both would be and are super proud of you, and they would want this for you.’_
> 
> _‘You're just, so strange...Hey! I like it! I like it!’_

That was when Charlie went stock still. He tilted his head down just enough to see a familiar, slender hand rested on his stomach. Charlie blushed down to his shoulders as it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Matt was _spooning_ him.

"Matt?" Charlie croaked so softly half of it was lost behind his lips. He was met with the soft reply of another steady, deep breath brushing against his back.

Charlie had no idea if this was intentional, accidental, or by virtue of the mere inches of space each of them had to work with. He was clueless as to Matt’s own awareness of what he was doing or if he was just naturally a clingy person in his sleep.

What he did know was how full and happy his heart felt with a whole slew of other emotions he didn't quite have words for encompassing his make up. What Charlie did hear whispered in the smallest part of his head was his realization of how he had never been held like this before.

Maybe a lifetime ago, when he wasn't the oversized, over accomplished man he had grown into, he could make out hazy memories of his mom holding him something close to this, or sleep piles with his toddler sisters after trying their hardest to stay awake a half hour after their bedtime.

Charlie glanced down at Matt's hand once more, his heartbeat fluttering, eyes glinting with possibility. He knew he hadn't seen it before, but maybe...maybe now…

Pulling his own hand out from where it had been tucked under the pillow, he realized it was trembling. Closing his eyes, Charlie reached down into that shakey pit in the bottom of his gut and took slow, deep breaths like he'd been taught since he could skate backwards and games had really started to matter. He pulled himself out of his own head, and refocused back to that fullness, to this new sense of security he felt surrounded by, and he was able to open his eyes and lift his hand steady once more.

Creeping ever so slowly, inch by inch, his larger hand came to hover over the smaller. He could have sworn he felt an energy, something concentrated and raw, buzzing in that small gap left between their skin. The direct contrast he felt compared to the relaxed bliss where their bare legs were half tangled and touching all over under the shield of the crappy navy comforter they were sharing, combined with it all, was dizzying.

That’s when Matt started to move.

Charlie's hand flew back under his pillow, body stiffening in a sad attempt to still look asleep, his almost recovered cheeks flooding akin to what he’d hoped to see across their touching hands.

He was so rattled, so lost in trying to find the surface of normalcy again, he almost missed how Matt had merely hugged in a bit closer and nuzzled between Charlie’s shoulders again, still fast asleep.

Smiling like a fool, the sudden urge to giggle bubbled up out of Charlie's chest, almost like he was high with the rush of it all. Either he was completely losing his mind without warning and all of this was just a big coincidental projection onto poor Matt, or there was something much bigger than him, or them, at play.

As far as Charlie was concerned, he'd happily be deemed crazy if this was what a soulmate was meant to feel like.

"I'm so fucked," he more mouthed than whispered to himself, still suppressing little laughs here and there as his deep-seated acceptance languidly relaxed him back to sleep.

He would just have to have faith.

. . .

Laid on his side, Matt's eyes trailed over little doodles and words drawn in wet condensation covered bay windows. Deja vu haze whispered in his ear that he had been there before. But when those shapes started to melt and distort, running down the windowsill and disappearing beyond the threshold, Matt knew better. His breath caught as wood paneling and glass that had withstood blizzards and hurricanes for generations started to crumble apart and disintegrate. Matt scrambled back into a heavy, solid, warm presence draped all across his back. Even as the whole foundation fell out from under them, Matt held tighter to the arms wrapped around him and squeezed his eyes shut as they fell into the dark.

Matt's eyes snapped open, his breath coming in stuttered and heavy like he couldn’t get enough oxygen. He was greeted with the sight of the mismatched hotel decor, his hand white-knuckling into the sheets to ground himself. He was awake, now, and he had been dreaming, again.

While the cloth felt cool to his fingers, Matt felt hot all over with a heavy, solid weight pressed and laid across his back. He quickly looked down, seeing a strong, sturdy arm wrapped around him, instantly remembering and recognizing it was only Charlie.

 _...Charlie_?

Letting himself swim in the innocent curiosity for a suspended moment in time, Matt blushed lightly when he was overcome with a sweet assuagement, an overwhelming security creeping over his body and settling into his tight lungs. It was such a new sensation, not unlike how Jimmy could reassure him with a touch or word, but unique rather still in the way it was laid in the same space, side by side, undisturbed and thrumming.

Was Charlie aware of what he was doing? Did it mean anything in particular?

Or...would Charlie freak out if he woke up and found himself hugged to Matt like this? Would it ruin everything they had tried to build between them recently, ruin their incredibly unique friendship he was growing increasingly attached to? Would it ruin their team dynamic that had finally turned around since the line changes in the first place? What, if any of it, or if _all_ of it, went wrong?

All of those questions bounced around in Matt's head, growing increasingly anxious with the possibility of Charlie waking up at any moment now. His heart skipped again, fear clenched tighter with every passing second.

All the while, the smallest, quietest corner of his mind looked on helplessly disappointed that he had to move away at all.

Matt snuck out of Charlie's arms on shaky, surreptitious limbs. Inch by inch, his body pulled away and left the rest of the blanket in his place. Ridiculously, irrationally, Matt's chest hurt with the loss immediately. He pushed his hand in shock to his chest as if to soothe over that ache with the pressure.

Finally off the bed, Matt was too panic stricken to look back, grabbing his bag and hurrying into the safety of the bathroom in the same rushed motion. With the door finally closed behind him, and a familiar wall between himself and the world, Matt slid down and folded into his knees, holding tight and silent to the waves as an old visitor greeted him once more.

. . .

Charlie woke up not long after the bathroom door clicked shut, shifting sore limbs and reaching out for a familiar warmth. In his search, his hand restlessly swam in an empty sea of navy blankets and a significant lack of Matt. His full mouth pouted, scanning the room and not seeing any sign of his defensive partner or his overnight bag anywhere, only their hockey bags still rested side by side.

The humming sound of the fan from the bathroom only registered to Charlie’s sleepy brain once he was already halfway out of the bed. Stopping in his tracks and feeling like an idiot, he sat back down in the space where Matt had probably been not ten minutes before judging by the lukewarm cloth under him.

A sound of a shift in the bathroom had Charlie looking at the closed door and the blocked light trying to come through the edges of the bottom crack.

"Matt?" Charlie asked, getting up at a much more normal pace and standing outside of said door. "You okay in there?"

"...Yeah," Matt answered a beat and a half later, sounding okay, almost too okay.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asked further, the concern coming through his voice.

"Yeah, I'm just getting ready." Matt’s voice sounded like it normally did in a literal sense, with every tone and inflection precisely where it should have gone. The underlying unique make up of Matt was lost under the words, or perhaps he was late to the conversation. Maybe Matt just wasn’t a morning person. No matter what it was, Charlie's head couldn't let it go.

"Okay, if you're sure...you can be honest," Charlie tried one more time. Why would Matt lie to him, and why _now_?

"I'm okay, Charlie. I'll be out in a sec."

Charlie swallowed, shaking out the pathetic thoughts and feelings trying to crawl into him. He knew he was being so unreasonable, knew there was nothing to be afraid of, that it was all in his head. He had no way to explain himself sanely to Matt—that he was blindly believing they were soulmates without proof because of all of these weird experiences and feelings he had at dick o'clock in the morning when no one else was there to see it—even if he let himself entertain the idea, anyway.

"Alright."

Matt hated the come down from his panic attacks almost as much as he hated the ramp up of the attack itself. He had been through this enough in his life that he could push through the woozy nausea and the last of the cold sweats while he pulled himself together, but it still never came easy. He splashed cold water on his face, his cross dangling and clinking into the sink.

"Come on, you got this," Matt mumbled to himself in between splashes, waiting and willing, and finally getting the bile feeling in his throat to subside after a couple minutes of repetition. He turned off the water and took a few deep breaths as he watched the last of the clear liquid drip off his nose and cascade down the drain.

Knowing he looked suspicious enough already, Matt dried his face and got dressed in a flash with the last of the malaise settling into his limbs.

The older man paused at the door with another slew of 'what if's', shaking his head and pushing through his hesitation. He had to be okay with whatever greeted him on the other side.

The younger was sat on the bed, fully dressed and absently toying with his necklace while scrolling his phone. Matt stood there timidly, wordlessly, even as Charlie looked up at him, though the other's face seemed to soften and shift into that newer, humble kind of smile Matt had seen last night while Charlie talked with him about his family. The fear he had still been holding onto finally settled in the dust, and Matt smiled back.

Both men shared quiet, comfortable conversation while they gathered their things, like two curious creatures meeting for the first time and sniffing each other in methodical circles. They made their way out of the room, sneaking glances when the other happened to look away. Without voicing it, the bittersweetness pooled between the two men when others from their team started to file into the hallway with them, marking a sort of finality to their night of esoteric happenstance.

At their bus destined for the airport, Matt got on first with a few of their other teammates. Charlie stayed back to stand beside Frank.

"What...the hell was that?"

"Oh _come on_ , I did you both a solid that was at least—God, at the very least—two months overdue, Bro. And...you both looked awfully cozy this morning," Frank smirked at him with a little wink, nudging his arm with his elbow.

Charlie’s response consisted of a light but clearly indicative smack to the back of Frank’s head, with a splotch of spectral [Scarlet](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/627770829686571008/charlie-mcavoy-frank-vatrano-winterlude-dont) rippling after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I had so much fun writing this chapter ya'll, I never got to write 'and there was only one bed' before~~
> 
> Thanks for reading! Everything from here on out builds on each other so I am excited to share more!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Background details about the AU will always be in the Chapter 1 Author's notes, but let me know if ya'll need any further clarification, or ideas? Always fun! This story is technically, basically an AU so some of the events portrayed here will not always reflect real life events.
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 5! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm probably ~~still~~ crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!

“Did you really just do that right now?”

A disgruntled Charlie whipped around from the freezing, wet _thunk_ he felt against the back of his neck while he wiggled to get it out of his hoodie and off his sensitive skin.

“What?” Matt asked, pulling the most innocent face within the shortest amount of time. He held the seraphic look with ease, an angelic display against the damning backdrop of the picturesque Marsh Plaza of the BU campus covered in the usual shin-deep snow banks of late January.

“What? Grzelcyk says ‘What?’” Charlie responded in disbelief even while an excitable look escaped. The taller dropped his hockey bag in dramatic fashion where he stood and didn’t wait for a response to take a few steps into the gap created deceptively between him and Matt on their (now routine) walk to practice together.

Matt’s composure broke the moment Charlie came at him, a huge guilty smile spread over his face as he dropped his own bag to skitter backwards on the cleared trails and between the snow banks, away from the new onslaught of snowballs Charlie was trying to lob back at him. Mischievous laughs came out while Matt tried to dodge them, only successful in getting pelted by two back to back to his chest.

“What?...What?” Matt taunted while he threw his own back, still half running away in this circling game they had started to play.

“Come here you little—!” Charlie lunged out with his hands with Matt skirting away at the last moment.

“Oh, too slow, McAvoy!” Matt challenged further, one of his slightly unhinged, silly voices coming through again.

Charlie had to stop just at the shock of it, never knowing when it was going to come out of the introvert. Of course, that was the opportune moment for Matt hit him with one more snowball while Charlie was busy staring.

“Oh that’s freakin’ it!” Charlie declared, dashing the few feet left between them and finally grabbing Matt’s glove covered hands in his own. Whether serendipitous or simply misfortunate, both their feet happened to find the one unsalted, icy patch on this particular path simultaneously, sending them tumbling into the snow.

“Shit,” Matt huffed out a soft laugh, having landed half next to and half on top of Charlie. “You okay?”

Charlie chuckled in the same manor, lifting himself just enough to be able to see Matt properly. Maybe it was the fall, maybe it was the number of head hits he’d already taken in his young life, but when those sky colored eyes with tiny bits of snow clinging to the ends of dark eyelashes looked back at him, everything in Charlie’s head went light and airy and a little lost while taking it all in. He couldn’t believe just how damn gorgeous Matt was, inside and out.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m very good. You okay?” Charlie asked with kind concern, glancing down for a moment and finally registering the sort of position they were in. He swallowed back his sudden urge to pay a little too much attention to that, refocusing back to Matt’s face instead.

Matt was mumbling his response in return with a little nod. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Charlie?” A friendly, feminine voice announced herself from behind them, grabbing the attention of both men. “Hey! You um—okay down there?”

“Hi, yeah, we’re totally good,” Charlie said back to the familiar girl from his Bio class last semester and her friend that was with her, completely at ease. “Right, Matt?”

“Right, totally chill,” Matt answered without thinking, glancing between Charlie and the unknown girls a little lost. The awful pun didn’t even dawn on him until after Charlie made vague, polite promises to hang out with her sometime this semester that even Matt could tell he didn’t mean, and after the odd looks the girls were giving both of them while they walked away. “...Ugh, sorry.”

“For what?” Charlie questioned, his attention back on Matt with nothing out of place other than his lighter hair half pulled out from under the BU beanie he wore, coincidentally matching the one on Matt’s head.

“Uh—I don’t know, I guess,” Matt shook his head in amusement, finally moving to roll off of him.

Charlie, although disappointed, took the cue to get up and offered up his gloved hands whereupon he pulled the other up easily and started dusting the snow off Matt’s shoulders for a moment. Pausing out of his own social blunder and Matt’s curious look at him, Charlie flashed him a charming, nonchalant smile. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late to being early.”

“At least the big man has jokes, his aim without a stick on the other hand...” Matt chirped with a pleasant look. He went to gather up his own bag and handed Charlie his in the process.

Charlie laughed silently and shook his own head while he took it. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

“I am.”

* * *

Practice went about as well as could be expected for this time of year, Charlie having seen as much when he was scouting schools last year—had it really been a whole year since he had met Matt already? He was dead tired walking by the end of it, but knew it was worth every ounce of energy with how much the annual Beanpot game meant to Matt and the rest of the locals on the team. It had been the increasing topic of conversation among them all since before Christmas break.

Of course, Charlie and Matt weren’t the only impressive unit on their team—Frank’s offensive line on their own could make magic happen when all things were right—but they had quickly become a central background component to the uptick in wins across their home and away games ever since the switch had happened in the late Fall after barely coming up with a handful of wins in the beginning of the season. For whatever reason, the difference in their team’s win vs lose stats for the year held a special kind of synchronicity.

There was obviously no pressure on them whatsoever.

“You ready for this next like, half a week?” Charlie asked Matt discreetly with the normal commotion of the locker room happening around them.

“You want the honest answer or the Captain’s answer?”

“Preferably the first, but now that I know the Captain has his own I’m curious…”

“Captain’s answer: don’t worry guys, we got this, just work hard and we can do it,” Matt pulled off the best, most encouraging smile he could muster, but Charlie could already see where this was going. “My personal answer? Nope, I’m not even close to ready.”

“Come on, we _have_ worked hard, and we really could win this,” Charlie attempted to persuade.

“Yeah, but Harvard is on the second day if we make it through the first round, and if they also make it. And they’re going to make it through.”

“Oh yeah? And what does Harvard have that we don’t? Besides a Captain with an impossible last name to spell?”

Even through the grin Charlie managed to pull out of Matt, he sounded like he dreaded even saying the words, “Jimmy Vesey.”

“What?”

“Harvard has Jimmy Vesey.”

“...Their captain? We’ve played against them a couple times already, right?” Charlie asked, trying to think back to earlier in the season, back when he was still learning the whole campus and Boston itself, let alone all of the culture that went along with it.

“Not since the beginning of the year, and they kicked our asses both times if you don’t recall”—Matt reminded Charlie lightly, carrying the affection into his next words—“Nevermind that I’ve known the jerk since peewee league, literally.”

“What? That Jimmy? No way,” Charlie said, stunned. He’d heard Matt mention a best friend named Jimmy quite a few times by now, but he’d never put two and two together. “How does that even happen? Both of you end up as Captains on major Division I rival teams years later? In the same city?”

“I don’t know, it’s pretty crazy. But I mean, we are still really close. We grew up playing together on different teams, we play in our neighborhood cup every year, I still see him regularly,” Matt mentioned while stuffing a sock covered foot into his shoe and lacing it up.

“Oh,” Charlie added oh so intelligibly, making sense at first. The longer he thought about it, though, the longer something started to not sit right with him.

“Yeah, so he’s _wicked_ good, I know exactly how good, like prettiest shots you’ve ever seen, and they’re the favorites this year. Plus, I don’t want to ruin anything between us, ya know? Even though we’ve already talked about it a million times by this point,” Matt thought out loud, freely, while he tied up his other shoe.

Charlie sat there on one hand half amused on the outside by how unironic Matt was sometimes about how deep the Mass influence actually was on him and on the other hand still stewing on the inside.

“Gryz! Can you come in here for a minute?” Coach Quinn called, pulling both of them out of their respective thoughts.

Matt stood up and took a few steps, then turned back to Charlie,“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” Charlie said, waiting for Matt to walk off before he let out the deep sigh he had apparently been holding in while he ran his hand through his helmet hair.

“...Dude, if you don’t make a move, I’m gonna do it for ya,” Frank urged as he came to sit in the spot Matt had been occupying.

“Frank, seriously—” Charlie started, though he was cut off.

“Yeah, seriously. I know Gryz, and I know you, okay? And he’s not gonna do it first. That’s just not how the kid works.”

“He’s a year older than you,” Charlie pointed out, matter-of-fact.

“And I’m a year older than this guy,” Frank smiled, poking an annoying finger into Charlie’s hoodie-clad chest until the younger was shoving it away.

“Look, let's say if, _if_ I was maybe considering uh…” Charlie paused, trying to think of how to admit such a thing in the environment they were currently in. Sure, their team felt like a pretty great and open-minded place, most bullshit-realm jokes getting shut down by either Matt, Frank, or the coaches themselves the moment they caught wind of it. But old habits tended to die hard, and the old culture still persisted and loomed in the background of hockey overall.

Frank was rolling his eyes and rubbing his forehead, interrupting Charlie once more. “I forgot that you make eyes like that at everyone, Chuck, forgive me. We all know what happens when you ass-ume.”

Charlie chuckled, some of those nerves lifting off his shoulders as he nudged Frank’s shoulder with his own. “Okay, okay! What uh, what do you suggest?”

The shorter man’s face lit up at this question with his hands rubbing together like an evil scientist. Charlie was instantly questioning his own life choices in asking for advice, dating advice, from Frank Vatrano.

“I thought Charlie Mac would never ask,” Frank declared, pulling a laugh out of both of them for a moment from the dramatics before he turned to face the younger man and settled once more to speak a little softer. “Okay, for real? Be straightforward. You have to tell him to his face what you want and what you’re feeling, Bro, yanno? Gryz spends so much time caught up in worrying about the details, he misses the big picture sometimes, even when it’s right smack in front of his face.”

“Seriously? Frank Vatrano’s greatest advice is to just say…”

“Yes, and you can’t even say it right now in front of me,” Frank gave Charlie’s shoulder a teasing shove.

“Shut up, I can too,” Charlie insisted, frowning (pouting) a little bit at being called out, his eyes trailing back over to Matt.

“Oh! And you gotta be kinda—not a wimp, but you gotta be easy about it, not too strong or too surprising.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Bro, I don’t know if you’ve realized yet that our friend worries about basically everything.” Frank’s tone became more serious than he normally ever was, dark eyes watching Charlie until the other was finally looking back at him. He raised an eyebrow in question, seemingly expecting an answer.

“Yeah, of course I’ve realized that!” Charlie defended in a brief knee-jerk reaction of agitation, then took in a breath, remembering he was talking to one of his most trusted friends. “Sorry, I get it, I do.”

Frank didn’t bat an eyelash. “I know you do, but I don’t know if you really _do_ , ya know? Matt doesn’t talk about the past a lot.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed, turning his attention once more to the man in question in the window across the way still talking to Coach Quinn. “Sometimes he does. Why? Did something happen?”

“Look, it’s not my place to say, and I don’t know all of it. I was only on a couple community teams with him as a kid and then the one year we had in high school together. But let’s just say that Matt hasn’t always had it as good as he does now, and there’s a reason our boy often doesn’t know how to handle the added attention,” Frank’s mouth pulled into a sideways frown, then deepened into a proud and almost dangerous smirk. “And that is also why we make sure no one ever fucks with him again.”

Frank reached over to break the tension Charlie seemed to be holding with all of the new information weighing him down. The other’s distracted staring at Matt through the slats in the window to the coach’s office gave Frank the opportune moment to ruffle Charlie’s hair. When Charlie finally ducked out of the way laughing, Frank was the only one to notice the [Scarlet](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/628406442611933184/charlie-mcavoy-frank-vatrano-winterlude-dont) patch suddenly present across his palm and fingers that was slowly disappearing and it’s matching counterpart fading across the back of Charlie’s neck and scalp.

“ _What the ever loving_ —?” Frank stage whispered, the most confused face he ever wore coming across his features.

“What?” Charlie asked while bringing his head back up, still a bit distracted.

If there was ever a time for Frank’s sweet charisma to fail, it would of course have been now. His quick reflexes, however, came through in the clutch to save his ass once more when he pulled his hand out of view faster than his classic hooked shot. “Nothing, I just realized that I gotta get out of here. But you got this, Man. I’ll catch you later.”

Charlie blinked after a quickly retreating Frank, his heartbeat picking up a beat with worry, though it wasn’t the first time the fast-moving man had disappeared off so it wasn’t that surprising. Plus, Matt was returning then, and his bright face left any strange feelings behind as he approached.

“You didn’t have to wait.”

“I know.” Charlie stood up and handed Matt his gym bag with a soft grin. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Matt returned the look with one of his own as he accepted, and they walked out together at their own pace.

* * *

The Beanpot’s first round game against Northeastern had been one of their hardest won victories that year. Both teams had fought it out and sustained decent injuries on both sides, though it was the classic combination of Matt and Frank’s varying styles of leadership on both ends of the team that helped them stick it out until the end of the last period, with Frank himself granting them the game winning goal. Celebrations were had both on and off the ice, in front of the press and off the record, with the buzz following them into the second round.

The last practice before the Harvard game required even more time and energy out of everyone on the team, especially the leadership. Despite the disruption in Charlie and Matt’s routine of walking to and from practice together across campus to Charlie’s dorm and/or to Matt’s subway stop, Matt had assured Charlie that they would survive until things went back to their ‘normal’ in a couple of days.

On the morning of the big game, Matt wasn’t so sure he would survive anything.

The captain found himself on his knees in the bathroom of the TD garden locker room, a cold sweat broken out over his forehead and what was left of his breakfast staring back at him from the toilet he was hovering over. He was even earlier than his normal early time, a plus being the son of one of the ice crew for the Boston Bruins with such an anxiety complex to match.

“Matt?”

Normally, the sound of Charlie’s voice echoing into the locker room after him would bring a smile to his face and at times even an excited, tingling sensation in his stomach he didn’t quite understand. Today, Matt’s stomach clenched sharply, clueless and frozen to the spot.

Then, his brain kicked into gear and he was dragging himself to his feet, wiping off his face and flushing the toilet as quickly as he could manage while Charlie’s footsteps and voice seemed to clue into all the commotion.

“Matt? Is that you?”

“Yeah, hey,” Matt greeted, clearing his throat and taking one last deep breath before stepping out of the stall. “How’d you get in here?”

“I saw your Dad, and he recognized...me…somehow...”

When Charlie took the last few steps over towards him, the warmth in his face instantly fell and his whole demeanor seemed to shift with his trailing words.

Matt’s eyes opened impossibly further, a pit of dread opening in his stomach. He must have looked like complete shit.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Charlie asked, his hands reaching out and promptly taking Matt’s sleeve covered wrists with a surprising tenderness not only for the other’s size but also for the quiet urgency with which he moved.

The sensation of that alone distracted Matt for a moment before he was trying to find words, “Y—yeah, I’m fine.”

“Matt, you’re so pale right now, like a ghost or—”

Then, the back of Charlie’s hand was grazing over Matt’s forehead, and again, something about the complete care with which the other took to touch him sent a pleasant, warm trickle down Matt’s spine. His eyes slipped shut, caught up in the tiny thrill of the contact, and missing the momentary shock and somber look that came over Charlie’s face while he looked between his hand and Matt’s skin.

“You’re not sick, right? You don’t feel hot or anything,” Charlie murmured with the same care in his voice.

Matt’s eyes opened with that, and noticed just how close Charlie was to him. His stomach clenched again in pure embarrassment at how unpleasant his breath must be right now, taking a self-conscious step back. “No.‘M not sick.”

“Matt. Please just be honest with me.” Charlie closed his own eyes now, taking a moment before he spoke again. “You can trust me, I just want to...to help.”

The shorter man looked down for a moment, his hands now rested on Charlie’s torso comfortably of their own accord. The first signs of color seemed to be coming back to his face at this realization, along with Charlie’s raw honesty, and he found himself nodding along in spite of the mini spike of worry he got in his chest at the thought of how he was giving in. “Okay.”

Charlie seemed to sigh in relief, the smallest smile coming back to his lips as he nodded back to him. “Okay.”

A few minutes later, Matt was sitting next to Charlie in “their” stalls (also known as the stalls of the great Zdeno Chara and Dennis Seidenberg) after cleaning himself up a bit more and brushing his teeth at his own insistence. He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, having no idea how to begin the conversation.

“...Wanna start with what happened this morning?” Charlie finally offered, rubbing the back of his neck and watching Matt with a less intense look of concern as before.

“Okay,” Matt agreed, nodding both to Charlie and himself as he tried to find words. After a few long moments again, letting the silence comfort him, he finally started. “I just...I didn’t sleep well?”

“Neither did I,” Charlie agreed.

“Sometimes I just get certain things that repeat themselves over and over in my head, if that makes sense.” Matt cleared his throat before adding, “Thoughts, mostly stressful things, or things that I might be responsible for.”

“Makes sense to me,” Charlie encouraged when Matt had paused again.

“Yeah? Cool,” Matt sighed with a sheepish grin, relaxing a bit with how well Charlie seemed to be taking this. “Well, this morning it was just ‘What if I...mess it all up?’, ‘What if I have an off day or can’t lead well?’, ya know? ‘What if everything goes wrong?’”

Charlie nodded along, staying quiet this time.

“And most of the time I can stop that whole thing from getting out of control, cause it doesn’t do anyone any good. But once in a while, it still kinda gets the better of me.” Matt pulled his backwards hat off his short, dark hair to run his fingers through it with another wave of worry trying to come over him.

“So you got so nervous…” Charlie started and motioned towards the bathrooms, not needing to finish the thought for either of them.

This made Matt nod, unable to look over at Charlie. Even with how much closer they had gotten, and with what Matt had learned about Charlie over the last couple of months, admitting these things to someone with so much confidence, even justifiably so, was incredibly difficult for him.

“Hey, I’ve done that, too, no lie,” Charlie admitted without hesitation, making Matt glance over at him timidly from under his eyelashes.

“Really? The great C Mac?” Matt asked, mostly playfully with a kernel of truth behind his question. It was hard for him to believe.

“Yes, really, even for things outside of hockey,” Charlie shrugged, a little hint of a smile coming across his face that Matt didn’t really recognize before he continued, “I mean, I’d never claim to struggle the way you do or say I have it worse, but, like, I’ve been there in my own ways. I can’t imagine having to carry all of that on top of carrying a team, and carrying your friends. I mean, shit Matt, it makes sense you stress out so much. Like when Coach Quinn tells us to not over do it at the gym? Like, ‘doing too much at once actually does more damage over time than good.’ Who is left to look out for you?”

Matt’s head tilted, completely stupefied by Charlie’s expressive reaction, by the sudden outpouring of individualized positive attention. Given the way Charlie’s own eyes widened a little bit, he wasn’t the only one taken by surprise.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—” Charlie tried to backtrack, but Matt was already jumping to save the moment.

“No, no, no. Wait, don’t apologize.” Matt’s hand had found Charlie’s knee before he even knew what he was doing, his face tinged further from the cringeworthy impulse as he removed his hand as quickly as he had placed it there. “It’s okay, I mean, you’re right. It’s something I’ve been working on for a while now, trying to get better at letting other people help me for once, trying to let people in closer.”

Charlie bit at his bottom lip unsurely, looking over Matt’s face, before he asked, “Yeah?"

“Yeah, I’ve gotten better about a lot of things, I used to be worse.” Matt’s shoulders gave away the silent laughs of self-deprecation once again as he settled.

A natural silence seeped into the lull, with Matt still fidgeting with his sleeve while the gears kept clicking and turning in Charlie’s head.

“... _How_?” Charlie finally wondered aloud, the question coming out profoundly candid and naïve. Blinking at his own question, Charlie hastily overcompensated with, “I mean, if you want to, tell me, you know. You totally don’t have to. I just don’t understand how anyone could—to you of all people...” Charlie trailed off, not sure of what he was saying anymore or how he was trying to say it, only how he meant it entirely honestly and pinned to his own sleeve.

Matt bit on his own lip for a moment, looking away again as brief snapshots of his younger self returned to his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how much to tell or where to begin, if Charlie was really going to understand all of it or not with Matt’s presumption of a lack of shared experience to bridge that gap.

“Lets just say that a combination of a few different things didn’t play out in my favor growing up, made making friends hard, or socializing in general,” Matt said, wringing his hands together. Then he pulled out a finger with each item added to his list. “I’ve always been small, I’ve always been quiet, I’ve always been a bit of a worrier, and I’ve always been awkward as hell.” He added with another little grin coming to his face. Luckily, he saw that he had managed to pull a similar one out of Charlie with that.

“So? That stuff shouldn’t matter. I mean, some of those things just make you ador—”—Charlie cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter—“Adored by the uh, the team, and other people you probably know.”

Matt looked confused again, certainly not expecting Charlie to say that. “Uh, maybe, I don’t know, a lot of people growing up thought I was weird or easy to push around or...” Matt shrugged, downplaying a lot of the details for both of their sakes. “Even though high school was better in Michigan it was hard the first year there, and when I was still back here, well…” He trailed off.

As both of their luck would have it, some voices of the coaches started to trickle their way down the hall and towards the locker room entrance.

“Hey,” Charlie said, tapping his hand to Matt’s arm to draw those eyes back to him. “I don’t judge you at all, okay? And I’m here for you, dead serious. Anything you need, anytime. I promise.”

Matt took in Charlie’s words, looking from his hand up to his face, seeing the pure sincerity there and something indescribable he didn’t have a concept for, something unabated, protective at the very least. The latter was confirmed by Charlie’s next words.

“And, no one will _ever_ fuck with you again, not like that, not under my watch.”

Matt finally chuckled in a docile hum to round out the newness and unfamiliarity. “Okay. Ditto, not that I am really good at the intimidation factor but—”

“Uh, have you seen you when someone is majorly late for practice? Or when you leverage someone into the boards by _their own_ body weight? Absolutely terrifying.”

“Watch out, I’ll make you do team laundry next.” Matt wiggled his fingers in front of Charlie’s face, making the younger snicker and pull away.

“See? Terrifying! I do not need to smell Vatrano again more than I already have to.”

* * *

The second round Beanpot game was tied 1–1 by the end of the first period. Harvard was putting up as much of a fight as they had at the beginning of the year and then some considering all that was on the line. Still not quite understanding why Mass kids went so crazy over this tournament, Charlie found himself swept up into the frenzy with everyone else now that it was here. He had already taken a few nasty blows in blocked shots that would turn to bruises later, and he had witnessed first hand just how good Jimmy really was on the other side of the puck. The guy seemed to find holes in their game like they were swiss cheese, and Harvard would easily be ahead already had everyone on the team not stepped up to try to compensate for him alone.

“Did you see how tiny their best forward is?” Charlie had caught wind of talk coming over from the Harvard bench from some players he didn’t know from Mary let alone their position when he came back from his last shift, sitting at the end of the rotation.

“Yeah, no idea how Vatrano got the A again, but their C is the same size. Guess they’re big fans of the ‘size doesn’t matter’ crowd.”

The chirps were stupid enough, but it was the equally stupid laughter behind them that instantly had Charlie’s jaw setting and stomach clenching with hot annoyance. He had glanced over at Matt, caught up in conversation next to him and luckily not listening to the trash.

“Legit! Bro, both of them had A’s last year. It’s why they fucking suck so badly.”

“Yeah, and why they’re gonna get fucking _crushed_.”

Another round of hushed, immature laughing had Charlie all too calmly cracking his neck.

. . .

The second period saw Charlie get more up close and personal with the Harvard team than before, trying a more ‘aggressive’ approach after gaining permission after some light convincing to Matt. He had taken personal pleasure in delivering big hits to the boards, especially when he happened to get his hands on Thing One from the other team more than once, and still had Thing Two to cross off his shit list. He had even gotten a couple hits on Jimmy, though cleaner and with significantly less force, making some great openings for their team to rally.

He hadn’t really noticed until one of those holes had opened up the opportunity for Matt to take an open shot just how dynamic they could be, together. Not only were they complimentary opposites in all of the ways he had discovered over their time in knowing each other, but they also had this sort of give and take that had been hiding away in Charlie’s blindspot. Matt’s shot crossing over the goal threshold behind the goalie’s skate with Charlie’s assist having kept the play alive ripped open those preconceived notions, with the group celly afterwards, and their slightly too long hug soothing it over.

The Harvard captain came by to give the BU captain a quick hug and head tap after Charlie and Matt had parted.

Charlie caught some sort of shared words along the lines of “I taught you everything you know” from Jimmy and a laughing shove from Matt before the BU captain skated off for the team fistbumps down the bench line. He followed after his captain, trying his best to ignore a stupid little green voice trying to gasp for breath in the back of his mind.

. . .

The third period began with BU being up 2–1 with plans to hold off Harvard's continued onslaughts of heavy offense and finish strong to win the tournament. Charlie was focused, really he was, but he had his own momentary personal victory when he got to completely lay out Thing Two to complete the set, not even caring about the power play it had generated for Harvard. He had faith that their team could pull through, Matt being particularly adept at power play strategy and having bestowed that on the rest of the team to the best of his ability all year.

Yet, watching the team struggle to block the impending shots without him reminded him of the issues they’d had early on, especially when Charlie hadn’t been so apt to listen to Matt the way he should have.

A shot from the other team rang out, and a pang of guilt followed in Charlie’s gut.

> _“Did you meet Charlie yet?”_
> 
> _“Ye-”_
> 
> _“Hey, man, good to meet you.”_

Another shot thundered in the increasingly noisy arena with a deeper pang still.

> _“What’re you doing here on Gryz time?”_
> 
> _“I don’t know, must be something in the Mass water getting to me.”_

Another shot hit, and the eruption on the Harvard side of the crowd broke the seal.

> _‘.._.he’d _been drafted, somehow…’_
> 
> _“If it’s one thing I won’t tolerate on this team, its blatant disrespect.”_

Charlie came out of the box, skating past the idiots from earlier now celebrating, his face scrunching worse as it all really, really hit him; he was the exact same kind of asshole as them. He had been no better to Matt than them or any awful shithead in his past who had hurt him.

“Dude, it’s okay, it’s only tied,” Frank tried around his water bottle, having noticed the storm cloud settled over Charlie when he returned to the bench and sat down heavily.

“It’s not,” Charlie sulked, taking his own swig and spitting it back out. “It never was to begin with.”

“What...are you— C-Mac,” Frank snapped his fingers in front of Charlie’s face, earning a glassy-eyed glare from the younger. “What is _wrong_ , Bro?”

“Everything,” Charlie laughed pathetically, the bitter edge to it the only thing keeping him together. “Nothing, I’m good.”

“...Shit.” Frank shook his head and sighed, running his hand over Charlie’s back and giving him some firm pats as he took in his own discrete, shaky breath. The forward found himself blinking with his words, purposefully not looking at Charlie who also wasn’t looking at him. “You know I’m here for you, and when this is over, I’ve got you, okay? But we need to get our shit together, Babe. We got a game to finish first.”

Charlie looked down at his gloved hands and nodded, taking in deep breaths and trying to turn off all of these feelings like he’d been doing for years and put them away in that little filing cabinet in his head (this particular file’s title had probably been struck out multiple times with a simple ‘Nope’ left over by this point).

“Charlie!” Matt called to him from a few people up from the bench. “We’re out again in one minute, after the next two rotations.”

Charlie lifted his head instantly at the sound of Matt’s voice, moving his head up and down in response.

“We’ve got this still, it’s only tied!”

A sad grin came to Charlie’s face at Matt’s sweet encouragement, nodding to that as well with a little more surety. He’ll have to ask Matt later what really compelled him to forgive him, or give him another chance. For now, Frank was right— they had a game to finish.

When minute was up, Charlie and Matt hopped over the wall together, perfectly in sync.

* * *

Anyone who had ever told Charlie that a close game was better than a blow out had been an awful liar. The loss hurt, deeply. He felt it in his soul, saw it across all of his team mates faces and all of the work they had put into this. It didn’t matter that they had managed to hold off the game to the last minute and a half when Harvard had finally gotten lucky at the last moment. It didn’t matter Charlie had probably played some of the best hockey of his life.

What mattered most was seeing how crushed Frank was, and anticipating how crushed Matt had to have been under it all. Charlie was torn between wanting to go to Matt and try to do anything to mitigate that, and also knowing a large part of this was his own fault and how he could do nothing about it now. If he had just listened to Matt and stuck to the plan...

Turned out, he had to hold in his frustrations anyway, seeing the local press on the ice talking with Matt and Jimmy and some of the others. He was staying off to the side behind the bench to avoid them, his mood already shot between here and the moon.

The briefest thought came over him, telling him to go wait for the others in the locker room, knowing his family had come out to see this one and would be waiting for him outside with all of the well intentioned condolences he didn’t want to hear. He took one last glance back over to Matt, and those bitter laughs bubbled up involuntarily upon seeing Matt and Jimmy, now helmetless, hugging closely in the center of the ice, among all of the people and noise and commotion that had moved on from them, sharing discrete words in each other’s ears.

“Of course. Of course,” Charlie said out loud, not caring if anyone was around him now or heard him. Ugly green thoughts gave way to their shackles and reared their heads at how Jimmy (the one he could currently see) seemed to smile with such intimacy behind it, like they were speaking a language only each other knew, that Charlie would never be able to learn.

And then all was tipped to radio silence in Charlie’s head when Matt pulled back into view when they parted with the distinct Color of a lighter, goldenrod [Yellow](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/628436244005781504/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) splotched across his cheek and ear that had Charlie forgetting how to breathe properly.

“No...no, no, no, please, _no._ ” Broken whispers left Charlie as he leaned forward as if to see better, as if maybe the way unconstrained tears sprung up behind his eyes had possibly deceived him.

Jimmy mussed up Matt’s hair with that Color welling up and trailing over Matt’s forehead and disappearing under his hairline as it started to fade out again.

Charlie finally closed his wet eyes, and everything within him seemed to break with it— the seal behind his dignity, his self-control, and his heart.

Yet, he knew even as he turned away and hurried into the locker room before anyone else, even as he changed out of all his gear and back into regular clothes on unsteady limbs and trembling hands, and even as he snuck out before he was seen, that everything finally made perfect sense; he had never deserved Matt all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it great we're only halfway through this behemouth and have so much more story to get through? ~~I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, the timing of this is bad but that is not my fault, it's Nick Ritchie's fault~~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Background details about the AU will always be in the Chapter 1 Author's notes, but let me know if ya'll need any further clarification, or ideas? Always fun! This story is technically, basically an AU so some of the events portrayed here will not always reflect real life events.
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 6! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm probably ~~still~~ crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!

Ten days after the Beanpot game final, Matt was worried sick. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly for most of that time, especially after Charlie had disappeared so suddenly after the game and missed the first practice back entirely. Sure, Matt understood what it was like to feel guilty about losing a game, even a heavily weighted one. He knew how hard it was to come back from that, to face everyone and everything once again. What he didn’t understand was why Charlie hadn’t responded to a single text or phone call from either him or Frank, or the other freshmen, or anyone else on the team for that matter. What had happened? Was Charlie okay? Was he sick? Or did Matt do something wrong at some point and miss the mark completely?

When the second practice had come up around day five, he’d been pulled aside by Coach Quinn and told that Charlie had taken a temporary leave from school for ‘personal and/or medical reasons’ and would be back by the next practice at the latest, possibly missing a game between now and then. He hadn’t been able to wrap his head around it, but had somehow come up with a way to phrase it to the team delicately. The only relief he had been able to muster was knowing that Charlie had to have been with his family back in New York at the very least.

Even though he hadn’t been able to let himself relax enough to get any kind of decent sleep, he had also never felt more exhausted in his life. He could hardly focus on anything, walking around through a filter of cotton when he wasn’t actively worrying himself in circles. It was so peculiar. Normally, he could distract himself from his ruminating thoughts through his school work or listening to music when things got too bad as a last line of defense, but the new found emptiness that had buried its way into Matt’s chest and laid itself bare was the most relentless of all.

The only thing he could get himself to still stick to consistently was hockey, even when Charlie’s absence in it felt so painful. He didn’t manage to make it to practice quite as early as he routinely did, but he did manage to keep everything running as well as he could. Playing with a different defensive partner made him feel that heavy guilt, for some reason, like some strange betrayal on Charlie even though he was the one who had left.

It was on the eleventh day, just before the team was due to be on the ice to start their warm ups, Matt heard someone coming into the locker room from the back way as the team was all filing out the front.

“Frank, get everyone started for me, will you? I’ll catch up.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Frank saluted him and tossed him a little wink before he followed after the rest of the team.

Surety was not Matt’s strong suit, often caught up in weighing all of his options for some of the most ridiculous decisions, and yet here, a little feeling inside him knew exactly who had snuck in at the last possible minute.

Matt turned back around the corner to the open area of the changing stalls, and was proven right.

Charlie stood there taking his time with peeling his layers and layers of outerwear off.

Seeing the other again after all of his worrying and questions had made the relatively short amount of time feel that much longer to Matt. He just had to bask in the relief for a long moment in the simple witnessing of Charlie's movements in this space, their space, before real life would inevitably complicate things when the moment was over.

Matt observed the way Charlie pulled his gloves off first, grabbing multiple fingers with careless yanks instead of finger by finger, grinning at the way he had to still blow a little warmth into them anyway. Charlie unraveled his scarf from his neck and hung it up in the stall next, with Matt surprised to see his hair slightly tousled and bare and exposed to the elements with the still subzero temperatures outside. Charlie pulled off his thick, black overcoat by letting it fall off the back of his arms instead of pulling it off arm by arm, and hung it up next to his scarf.

Matt wondered if Charlie was aware of these little things he was just now noticing for the first time about him. Matt wondered if Charlie was really aware of just how much he and all of these little things and their absence had mattered to the team, to his friends, to Matt.

“Do you realize just how late to practice you are?” Matt gave in softly, making his presence known with one of his classic lines. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest.

Charlie froze in place, Matt able to see his lip curling up wistfully when he halfway turned in Matt’s direction. “How late?”

“Ten days, thirteen hours, and forty...four minutes,” Matt answered, squinting over at the clock on the wall to confirm before he grinned mercifully over at Charlie.

Charlie’s head whipped over to Matt, and then at the clock, and then back at Matt. Along with his bewilderment, it was obvious, too, that Charlie had shadows of dark circles under his eyes. It was a bit of an odd combination.

“That’s...uh, _specific_ ,” Charlie pointed out, finally relaxing into impressed amusement.

“Yeah well…” Matt shrugged before adding, “You’ve been missed around here.”

There it was again, the tell tale sign Matt had said the wrong thing when Charlie’s eyebrows raised slightly, face hardening while he started to go through his bag. Matt saw the way his cross necklace dangled mid air with the motion, distracted while Charlie finally responded with “Well, I’m back.”

“...What?”

“‘Well, I’m back?’” Charlie repeated, looking over at Matt once more. “You okay?”

“What? Yeah,” Matt said entirely too quickly, taking a few more steps across the room to close the gap. “Are _you_?”

The movement alone made Charlie stand up straight once more, and when Matt was within a few feet, his eyes became nervous like they had months ago. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” A rare moment of boldness overtook Matt, though there was no harshness behind it. His hands literally hurt with the sudden urge to touch, to move even closer, an overwhelming need to just hug Charlie settling in. “Charlie, I’m not mad…”

The wide-eyed look of surprise on Charlie’s face at Matt’s bold honesty was replaced with the same tired look he began with. “I’m not sure how you're not, but uh, thank you.”

“Cause that's not important, there will be other games, like next year—”

“ _Matt_ ," Charlie spoke slowly and thickly, as if speaking itself were difficult, and then swallowed it all back down. "It's not about the game.”

“Okay, then what—I mean, I don’t understand,” Matt admitted honestly, interchanging between shaking out his tingling, aching hands and crossing them under his arms again to try to regain some feeling back into them. “I just want to help.”

Charlie’s eyes closed, looking pained, and Matt actually took a step back at another sudden shift in the room.

“Look, if you want me to be able to be here, then you need to accept that I can’t talk about this. I’m sorry, I just...can’t,” Charlie said, holding his arms out helplessly and then letting them fall to his sides. “I know that you can’t help it, and you’ve probably already worried a lot as it is. But please, you really don’t have to worry about this. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I swear. This is just... something I have to get over.”

Matt stood there taking in Charlie’s words as if he were speaking a foreign language while still retaining every word said. Putting the meanings together into bigger coherent ideas felt next to impossible, but he nodded. The need coming off of Charlie was palpable; Matt couldn’t dream of ignoring it.

“Okay,” he agreed softly even though the lone word already had him worrying again. “Are we still, I mean—" Childish and overexposed, he had no choice but to expose his nagging and awful feeling that Charlie was going to disappear again the moment Matt let him out of his sight. “We’re still friends right?”

“Yes! Yeah, of course,” Charlie responded quickly, which helped to quell some of those rising feelings of panic on its own. “Matt, you’ve become one of my best friends. I just needed some space, still need some. But that doesn’t change _that_.”

Although the emphasis was weird, the rest helped to provide a little bit more comfort, allowing Matt’s chest to let go of that panic. “Good, I'm glad. You’re one of my best friends, too, yanno? Just...let me know whatever you need me to do, okay? I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Charlie agreed, giving Matt the best reassuring smile he could drag out at the moment, which wasn’t very bright, but hopefully was sincere enough to be convincing. “Just please don’t make me do thirty laps.”

“...I _guess_ I can cut you some slack, McAvoy. Just don’t let it happen again.” Matt teased lightheartedly.

“I won’t.”

“Can you sneak out there in about twenty?”

“Probably fifteen.”

“Now you’re just sucking up,” Matt said over his shoulder as he started to head back.

“Only for the Cha'lestown Boy,” Charlie threw back in his bad faux accent, with Matt missing the way he slumped down on the bench with his head in his hands and taking in shaky breaths to recover once he was sure the Captain was out of sight.

* * *

When Charlie said he needed space, Matt hadn’t fathomed quite how much, or what that would necessarily entail. The younger man was back, but he wasn't really there. Matt was not a fan of the dichotomy while watching Charlie practically numb out his usually expressive nature while also playing the same role as before— his dependable play maker and the approachable extrovert in the locker room, if just a little bit quieter. Anytime Matt looked at Charlie or thought about him, an echo of that emptiness and an image of those tired ocean colored eyes came flooding back, having to shake them off if he was going to continue to be functional.

When Matt saw Charlie going about his usual routine bulking up at the gym, or when he caught glimpses of genuine, bright smiles shining out of the other during their team's annual charity work at the children's hospital, he started to think he was probably overthinking everything. That was a much more likely explanation, after all.

Although they both continued to put up great stats for their team for the last few games of the season, everything started to unravel from some sort of loose seam Matt couldn't seem to find. The morale of the team had fizzled out, as did their winning streak and their chances of seeing the post-season that year. It all created a bad taste in Matt's mouth during one particular practice, like everything had veered left somewhere and had never righted itself.

Come to find out, 'everything' turned out to be Matt's left shoulder.

"Hey buddy, you're okay, the medic is on the way." Frank hovered over Matt's crumpled form on the ice, the normally tactile man going to great lengths to not touch his old friend. “Where’s it hurt?”

Matt swallowed back the deep groan that wanted to escape as the searing ache exploded into his shoulder any time he moved an inch. " _Fuck_ , that was so fuckin' stupid."

Matt's eyes squeezed shut, feeling each word, even every breath he took was heavy and shooting, unable to fully express the extent of it all.

"Come on, Bro, it didn't look that bad, and my dumbass slams into the boards the wrong way all the time—" Frank started trying to reassure Matt, though was cut off by Charlie's presence suddenly appearing down on his knees next to Matt on the ice.

At first, the man only looked at Matt with that deep seated worry at a loss.

"I'm...fi—"

"Bullshit, Matt," Charlie returned the call out in the same way Matt had delivered it once before. "Just keep your shoulder still, okay?"

Even through the way the pain made the sound of his blood rush through his ears and made his breathing go ragged, an astounded Matt stared up at Charlie from the ice. Had he been able to look up further without straining said shoulder, he would have seen Frank wear a similar, and yet further ascertained look in his eyes.

"Okay," was all Matt could get out as he conceded.

Charlie was the one who helped Matt back to his feet and off the ice with the aid of the medic once it was confirmed that the Captain really hadn't broken his neck and that the only major injury he had was indeed the now stabilized separated left shoulder.

. . .

"How the hell did you know that?" Frank accosted Charlie after Matt was settled with the full medical team while they both waited outside the door. Before Charlie could deny it, like Frank knew he was going to, he was motioning to his own shoulder.

Charlie was unable to meet Frank's eyes, using his phone as the excuse and playing it off with “What? It was obvious.”

"You know what I smell, McAvoy?" Frank, ever expressive and now entirely serious, stared Charlie down.

Charlie was already rolling his eyes before Frank answered his own question while digging a poking, pointed finger into Charlie's left shoulder with each next word.

"A big, fat, steaming pile of bullshit."

"Believe what you want," Charlie attempted nonchalance, but the way his eyes winced, even watered, and his jaw set tighter and tighter said anything but.

"Oh, I don't gotta ‘believe’ anything,”—Frank’s dark eyes seemed to turn even darker, his accent growing even thicker along with an anger that Charlie had never seen before suddenly coming out in hushed growls—“Cause when I know something, I _know_ it, and I fucking listen to it. And I don’t drag everyone else around me through it too.”

“Dude, what—” Charlie finally looked back at him, unable to ignore whatever this was turning into.

“And let me tell you something, Charlie McAvoy,” Frank bowled over his words, not caring at all that he had to look up to yell at the other or anything. His hands pressed at Charlie’s chest with his words, half still poking him and half almost grasping at his shirt. “I don’t run out on people who were there for me, refuse to answer any texts or calls, and then give them the cold shoulder when they get back!”

“ _Frank_ , I just—Man, I’m sorry,” Charlie’s own heart started to quicken as his feet took a step back, feeling the heat of the anger rolling off of Frank, almost burning his own skin through his clothes. And, he logically knew like he knew his own name that Frank would never try to hurt him; Charlie didn’t shrink back out of fear or intimidation.

“God bless that kid in there, I love ‘em as one of my own,” Frank pointed at the closed door with his voice seeming almost entirely calm before pointing at Charlie once again with his insistent and invasive touches as he concluded, “But he is also not the only important thing in the world, either.”

Before he could explain further or wait for Charlie’s response, the star forward shook his head and calmly stepped into the room.

Charlie looked at said door, imagining Matt still being looked at and how worried he still felt for his defensive partner. He rotated another deep, panging ache out of his shoulder, rolling his eyes at himself at his stupid empathy pains or whatever this happened to be. In this exceptionally quiet moment, he could also notice a searing anger burning somewhere in his chest, mucked up under all of the chronic, dampening sadness he had carried around since the Beanpot. Charlie didn’t know why he was the one who was angry beyond the natural annoyance of being reamed out like that without warning.

He knew he had messed up.

Frank emerged a moment later, throwing Charlie a “Don’t follow me,” over his shoulder without looking back before he was gone.

That anger instantly dispelled into disbelief when Charlie looked down and saw the way his feet had already tried to disobey his other best friend. He blatantly ignored the way that emptiness seemed to only double down while he reigned it all in.

“Well, that was just _lovely_ ,” Charlie grumbled sarcastically to himself while he now waited for Matt all alone.

* * *

Although Matt was no stranger to the potential for late Spring and early Summer to be the loneliest time of year, Charlie had no preparation until it hit him like a headhunted blindside to the boards. He had been so ambivalent of facing the heavy reunion, the ‘before’ of coming back, walking on eggshells around himself around everyone else, he hadn’t taken the time to truly prepare for the fall out of the ‘after’.

Their last two practices and final game of the year had been particularly bittersweet, with Matt unable to skate or participate at all. Charlie, along with everyone else on the team, had tried to support him without overwhelming him at the same time. The fact that he still made it in early, arm sling and all, and left after most of the other players spoke more volumes than anything else Charlie could have offered the team. The younger one’s respect for the other only served to solidify even more.

When the last of the random overnight frosts had finally had their fill of Boston, but before it could get over eighty degrees in one day, Charlie had taken his finals and had headed home. It was so anticlimactic (even after Frank had sincerely apologized for going off on him without really saying why) that he could leave everything behind with such little impact.

. . .

Charlie’s resolve in shutting out his family’s repeated cycle of nagging mixed with genuine concern had somehow weakened and fatigued since the last time he had come home (apparently spending weeks only occasionally leaving his room to see friends or to work out had been ‘worrisome’ and he ‘clearly didn’t know what was best for himself right now’). He had been fighting them on attending the draft for an entire year before all of this, ever since the exact day he had walked out last Summer without a spot. He had been looked over in spite of his reputation as a coveted favorite by multiple media sources, in spite of ranking so high in his own league, in spite of nailing his in person interviews with the teams that had showed interest, in spite of helping his own team win Gold at the World Juniors, in spite of being told by so many people if he just worked hard enough it would finally happen for him. Instead, he had sat there internally hoping and squirming each and every time another "Charlie" or "Ch" name had gotten called, an oddly staggering amount that year to say the least.

Although now tied for the most devastating, the experience had been the single most humiliating moment of his life.

“Come on, Honey. Things could really turn around today,” Charlie’s mom said in such a way that both irritated and still reminded him she was only trying to support him while she reached up and readjusted his tie for the hundredth time. Both him and his parents stood outside the TD Garden, in Boston no less, where the draft just so happened to be that year.

 _Lucky_.

“Yep,” he replied dryly, letting her fiddle with the annoying cloth that already felt like it was choking him as it was. He sighed, trying really hard to not take out his pent up emotions on his parents who were only trying to help him.

“It will. I have a good feeling about today,” his dad chimed in next, reaching in and helping his wife make sure it was straight. When she batted his hands away with a little grin, and he gave her a small one back, Charlie took all of his self control to not roll his eyes half fond and half annoyed.

“You said that last year,” Charlie reminded him, trying and failing to keep the bitterness totally at bay.

“I know, but it’s good to have faith sometimes, Chuck.” His dad patted at the back of his shoulder with a concerned look on his face when that tiny bitter chuckle slipped out of Charlie’s mouth in response, escaping its confines.

“Cha’lie McAvoy,” a strange, silly voice said behind him, completely derailing the entire conversation as all three McAvoys turned in the direction of the owner.

A proud Matt Grzelcyk was walking up to him, causing Charlie’s eyes to almost pop out of his head. He was dressed well, quite well, even with his arm still held in the sling on his shoulder, his short hair actually slicked back instead of cramped up under a backwards hat or beanie of some kind. His button up was grey, his shoes and pants matching black, and his tie held a small pop of color with lines of grey and red to pull it all together.

Yeah, he looked fine.

“What, uh, are you doing here, Gryz?” Charlie asked, voice dripping in honest shock. He smiled in spite of himself.

“Hey, you’re in my territory.”

Charlie leaned in, half hugging Matt’s good side as if that were the most natural thing in the world. The softest musk, a hint of vanilla, and some kind of underlying spice Charlie had no hope of a reference for hit his senses at the embrace.

Charlie’s mind flashed back to the year previous, when he had heard Matt’s name announced, incorrectly, and witnessed him walk across the stage to accept his placement with the Boston Bruins looking just as dressed up and gorgeous as he did now. Charlie had been filled with and blinded by nasty jealousy and indignation for such a talented and beautiful person, it was so hard to believe that twelve months could make that impression go pear shaped in the most particular way.

Charlie’s heart melted, holding on a moment too long.

“Fair enough,” Charlie finally conceded the hold with his answer when he pulled back. “How are you holding up?”

“Well, still not holding up much with this side, but not doing too bad,” Matt joked, pulling another chubby cheeked grin out of the taller.

“Mom, Dad, you remember Matt?” Charlie introduced them, Matt shaking both of his parents hands.

“How could I forget? That streak against BC and Northeastern this year?” Charlie’s dad said, giving a soft whistle with how impressed he was.

A humbled smile came out of Matt, and he almost bowed his head to the older man for a moment with his nod. “Thank you, those were great runs. Couldn’t have done it without this guy.”

Those soft blue eyes looked at Charlie then, and he felt his head go all stupid once more.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, Captain.” Charlie forced himself to keep talking and acting normal. Yes, this was totally normal.

“What? It’s true,” Matt smiled, then deflected for Charlie flawlessly. “I just wanted to come by to give you this,” Matt offered Charlie a card and a small gift, “and to wish you all the best luck for today. They’d be, pardon my french, fuckin’ idiots to not take you.”

Charlie stared at Matt.

Charlie gawked at Matt.

Charlie foolishly fell for Matt (again).

“...Thanks,” Charlie stared for so long that his Dad had to give him a subtle nudge to snap out of it. Even with the prompting, it was difficult for him to take the gifts and hide the pure, tender awe in his voice at the same time.

“Thank you again, Matt. I think we have to get inside soon,” Charlie’s mom urged lightly, glancing back at the entrance line that was starting to get longer. “But it was great seeing you, really.” She took the time to give him a hug of her own on his good side, wishing him all of her best condolences.

In spite of everything inside Charlie longing for the opposite, they parted ways. This time, before he disappeared inside the entrance door, Charlie looked back. Matt was still standing there, watching with his ever friendly expression, and offered his own wave. Charlie held his hand up in a childish acknowledgement rather than a proper wave, resisting all of the irrational urges inside of him to go running back.

. . .

Sitting between his parents, Charlie ignored the echoing, looming sense of Deja Vu trying to crawl over his skin and into his mind by fiddling with the little box, and contemplating when he should open it. He’d already been through his interviews again, having nothing else to do but wait. Distracting himself from one life stressor with another would _totally_ work.

“So…” Charlie’s dad started, and the Junior already felt tired at the trace of excitement he could catch in the lone syllable from the Senior. “It finally happened, hm?”

“What happened?” Charlie asked, glancing over at his Dad who had taken on a hushed tone.

“Oh come on, Charlie, don’t pull my leg.” His dad was motioning to his hands for some reason, and Charlie couldn’t even try to avoid whatever this conversation was supposed to be about.

“...I swear, I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.” Charlie shook his head, being one hundred percent honest with his Dad for the first time in months. The older McAvoy must have realized, as his tone became slightly more serious.

“Well, it’s Matt.”

"What's Matt?”

“ _Charlie_.”

“What?!” Charlie half yelled, exasperated. Luckily, his mom was caught up in talking to other parents around them, he could not have handled this onslaught from both sides.

“It’s so obvious, Son. I mean, don’t get me wrong, back then I was super obvious about it too. You must get that from me. Sorry, Kid.”

Charlie’s head totally hurt now. He had a migraine, his dad was being embarrassing again, all of these stupid feelings kept bubbling up again, and how damn fair was it for Matt to show up looking like _that_ , and bearing gifts?!

“What’s—...are you…” It suddenly clicked when he saw how his dad glanced over at his mom briefly and back at him a couple of times. He gasped sharply.

“Dad. _No_.”

“Hey, it’s okay, seriously. I promise, as your father, I don’t care at all. We’ll welcome him into the family just the same. He seems like a truly great person from what you’ve told us and today, I mean—”

“That’s...nice? But no Dad, please just stop.” Charlie sunk down further into his seat miserably, wanting the ground to swallow him up whole. “Doesn’t matter, it’s impossible.”

“How?”

"Cause it's obvious!...W—we, don’t…” He didn’t expect his voice to quiver while he tried to explain, making him swallow quickly while he dejectedly touched his hands together and let them fall back into his lap in a heartbroken heap.

His dad was quick to rub his back consolingly, though slow to choose his words, for once. The long moment of silence made him glance over to see his dad deep in thought before he finally spoke.

“Have you ever asked him about it?” The question was simple, and yet seemed to complicate itself within Charlie’s comprehension.

“Well...no.” Then his dad was laughing at him and Charlie was hiding his face against his own hand with a “Sometimes, you suck, a lot.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s just,” his dad paused between the soft laughs that came out of him, and pointed a finger at himself. “I did the same thing.”

“What?”

“Yeah, your mom and I met probably around your age but our Color didn’t ‘appear’ right away either like it does for some.”

“Nineteen years and now you decide to tell me this?!” Charlie yelled, strangling his volume to not draw attention. “What happened, why didn’t it—, I mean how—?”

“Whoa whoa, breathe, Son, it’s okay, it’s okay,”—Another comforting rub to his back had Charlie complying—“I just, I made a lot of idiot assumptions about her and her life, thinking I knew everything. I didn’t mean anything bad by it, I just, I didn't really see _her_ , not until I stopped focusing so much on myself."

Charlie's eyes were transfixed on the garish yellow seat of the person in front of him. The young man took in a deep breath and sighed, feeling the tiny inklings of hope trying to crawl back into his heart in the face of the physical proof he had seen otherwise time and time again. Everytime it wasn’t Matt, it was like a part of himself wanted to prove it even further, wanted to go out of his way to force what simply couldn’t be.

But how could they only be friends? They shared so many similarities, and so many things in almost near perfect tandem. And then all of the weird occurrences that kept playing out, that kept pulling them back together. What about the strange, probably erratic need Charlie felt to honor that above almost everything else?

"Yeah...I guess that makes sense," he let himself say, then let his eyes drift between his mom and then over to his dad. "How did you start?"

"Well, I shut up a little more, I asked more questions, I stopped using ‘I’ so much. I started trying to really figure out what she needed from me, rather than just what I thought I could give her," the older man said, thinking out loud.

Charlie went quiet again, lost in thought. Maybe he was going about this all wrong... but he had seen the Color between Jimmy and Matt with his own two eyes, he was absolutely certain he had. Maybe Charlie could at least be a better friend to the other, Matt deserved that much.

The young man stayed in thought, finding it a much more pleasant experience to contemplate the emotional intricacies of the huge feelings associated with his complicated friendship with Matt more than the idea of sitting there fully present to relive a huge disappointment, again.

Then, a life altering voice cut through on the loudspeaker.

_"For the Boston Bruins, we select Charlie McAvoy, 19, Boston University."_

The announcement reverberated in the back of his thoughts like the rest of the draft had, clapping hands trickling in after. The excited, squeezing hugs from both sides at once were what really jostled him back to the present.

"You did it, Kid. I knew you would!"

"Boston wants you, Charlie!"

Both of his parents spoke at once in the hug, Charlie sitting there absolutely floored, a strange tingling crawling all over his skin as if a barrier between his body and the surreal world he suddenly found himself in. His parents stood, and Charlie only followed after at their prompting like he had lost control of all of his faculties. It all happened in a blur— the way he walked up to the stage with his parents, accepting the handshakes from the coaches, holding up the black and gold jersey with his name across the back, whatever jumbled thanks he had managed to say to the crowd.

"I am so proud of you, Charlie, so, so, so proud!" His mom hugged him tightly once they were backstage, already crying the moment she’d heard her son’s name announced across the Garden. "I know how hard you've worked for this, I do."

"Looks pretty good," His dad added quietly, his amiable smile as wide as Charlie's with silent tears threatening to come down at any moment.

“Thank you guys so much, I can’t even tell you—” Charlie, humbled, tried to explain, with both of his parents shushing him as they shared even more hugs. "I uh...I guess I might become a Boston guy after all," Charlie teased instead, holding back his own tears.

He looked down at the jersey in his hands. His eyes moved over the black, and then down to the gold, a small churning in his stomach as a slightly lighter version of that gold superimposed itself over Matt's cheek in his mind. At the same time, he burned with excitement, and a teeny, tiny bit of that ignorantly laced hope in the back of his mind. What chances would they have to both be drafted, let alone to the same team?

On top of everything else he had contemplated that day, why would their futures continue to be intertwined?

. . .

Sitting in the back of his parents' car on the long drive back, with the folder of paperwork and draft contracts signed and dated, his future practically green lit, Charlie finally let himself open the small gift from Matt.

Pulling back the paper slowly, the small gift box gave birth to a [gold chain necklace](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629079272825487360/charlie-mcavoy-cross-necklaces-including-a). Suspended in the middle were a formation of gold hockey sticks in the shape of a cross.

Charlie's heart raced as he took in the gift, any semblance of the walls he had spent weeks building up came tumbling down into a huge heap within a matter of seconds. Those damn feelings, those bigger than life feelings that made him feel crazy were reignited and screaming about the impossibility of coincidence. Trembling hands finally managed to grab for his phone to text Matt, watching the retreating Boston skyline out of his window until it was out of view as they sped away on I-90. When he let himself look down at his screen, Charlie finally noticed the neglected text notifications from the past few hours from some of the guys, particularly the ones from Frank that he needed to answer ASAP.

The last one he scrolled through was from Matt, timestamped during the late afternoon, during the draft.

_"You're going to look wicked good in black and gold, Kid."_

Charlie slowly tilted to the side and laid down across the backseat bench with it, turning to face the backrest with a mumbled excuse to his parents of sleeping until they got home. Those tears he’d held back all day finally had their place to go, absorbed into the fabric under his cheek as he held the necklace to his chest, already having slipped it on.

"God I'm so _fucked_ ," he whispered to himself, while typing out words back to Matt before hitting send.

_"We're* going to look wicked good in black and gold one day, Kid."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks ya'll for sticking with me (and lets be real, Charlie) through all of this so far, and I'm really excited to post the next few chapters! I always welcome respectful feedback or comments of any sort. See ya'll next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Background details about the AU will always be in the Chapter 1 Author's notes, but let me know if ya'll need any further clarification, or ideas? Always fun!
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 7! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm probably ~~still~~ crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!

Summers in Long Beach, New York were notorious for three things: food, the one annual acknowledgement of its existence by the rest of the state in the form of tourism, and surfing. Although a local, Charlie wasn't one to be able to stay away from the beach for long at any time of the year, knowing the ins and outs of the boardwalk and its lesser known alcoves for the residents like he knew his own hockey rituals. Back in February during his brief impromptu trip home, he'd spent most of his time not locked away in his room walking along the snowy sand covered, deserted, quiet beach. Something about being surrounded by the familiarity, the dependable smell of the salt and the give of the sand under his feet that had always been there after so much uncertainty had Charlie coveting every moment.

Charlie felt like a part of himself was lost somewhere along the highway between here and Massachusetts, and he simply had to ignore it if he wanted to have a shot at ever feeling normal again. Charlie threw himself into plans with old friends and spending time with his sisters, realizing just how much he had missed in yet another year away from home.

It wasn’t that he was ignoring anyone from school in particular. He’d talked to the guys on the team when they’d talk to him, Frank in particular. He’d message Matt a few times a week, though as the weeks got hotter and hotter, their messages surprisingly became fewer and fewer.

“Charlie, if you don’t come answer your phone, I’m gonna answer it for you!” His older sister threatened one sweltering early August afternoon.

“Don’t you dare!” Charlie called from their garage where he had been doing some maintenance on his surfboard in prep for yet another long surfing day planned out for tomorrow.

“Who’s ‘Frankie Baby’?” She called out, laughing in confused amusement.

“No one! Mind ya business,” Charlie shooed her away from his phone with a smile as he ran into the kitchen where he had left his phone behind. Sure enough, the call ended, and yet another call came in displaying all of the various hearts and heart-eyed emojis that Frank had put himself one day. Charlie hadn’t bothered to change it.

“You’re so strange, Chuckie,” she teased.

“How’s it feel to share blood with me?” Charlie asked her rhetorically, not even waiting for an answer as he picked up the call.

“Do you happen to know where [‘Diner By The Sea’](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629711712560578560/long-beach-ny-diner-by-the-sea-winterlude) is?” Frank’s voice immediately cut in.

Charlie’s mouth paused and hung open for a moment, because “That’s...down at the pier, why?”

“Ah, yeah, how far is that from your house? They have fucking fantastic milkshakes though, Jesus. You try one of these babies yet? And they’re so colorful—!”

“Wh—what are you doing here?!” Charlie tripped up from the shock.

“How. Far. Is that. From your house?” Frank spelled out instead.

“Oh my God, just stay there. I’ll come to you.” Charlie shook his head, already feeling so tired. “Okay? Don’t move.”

“Great! I’ll be here, Bro.” Frank sounded so satisfied that Charlie hung up on him.

. . .

Frank’s gigantic milkshake was about an inch from the bottom by the time Charlie was walking up to him.

The well known stocky, smaller figure with dark, short hair and strong Italian features turned his mirrored aviator-covered eyes towards Charlie. It was hard to stay mad at the way his face lit up with his slightly crooked smile even with the sunglasses covering half his face.

“There’s the wonder boy!”

“What does that even _mean_?” Charlie asked, most of the anger behind his words giving way to mirth as he suddenly had all five foot nine of his best friend hugging him.

“Ahh you know.”

“I really don’t,” Charlie smiled, patting lightly at Frank’s back.

A moment passed, then another, and then even another, and Charlie knew they had long passed the normal window for ‘Bro Code’ a while ago. He earnestly asked the other if everything was okay, though it was only after the words left his mouth that he sharply understood just how much he had missed Frank, having that particular longing soothed over with their touch. He hugged a little tighter into the embrace, and the softest, sweetest hum left Frank’s throat in response before he spoke.

“I’m good, Bro. Just missed you. I knew your diva ass wasn’t going to come visit me, so I had to come see you.”

Charlie took the teasing easily, finally pulling back and speaking, “Listen, when I get a car of my own, I will visit all the time. I still have to borrow my Mom’s.”

His eyes took in Frank finally, the other glancing back at him completely expectantly. It was only now that Charlie noticed just how much sun Frank must have gotten this Summer already, and it’d probably be a dick move to mention it, so he didn’t.

“...Yeah, yeah, so he says,” Frank teased in a way that didn’t meet his eyes or his softer tone of voice, but dropped the subject. “Look, I am here to chill, right? But we got some business to sort out first. So, you wanna take a walk?”

“Uh, sure…” Charlie found himself agreeing, then kicking his own ass mentally. Frank was always doing that, talking him into things before he could say no, though mostly when things were only harmless, luckily.

Both of the men walked the steps onto the beach where some people were still gathered while others were packing up to leave as the sun was starting to set. They walked in silence for a few minutes away from the pier and the hustle and bustle.

Eventually, Frank pushed his sunglasses up and broke it as gracefully as Charlie could expect.

“You haven’t committed for the Fall yet, Charlie.”

“So? I just forgot, doesn’t mean I’m not coming.”

“Does it?” Frank asked, stepping in front of Charlie to stop him. A brief glance away from Frank’s presumptive eyes showed Charlie some familiar beach houses next to the end of the pier, knowing they had started to walk off towards the more private sections.

“Of course I’m coming.”

“Okay, well here’s my problem,”—Thank God for Frank, never making Charlie question him, save for that one weird fight they’d gotten into at the end of the year, though Frank really had already apologized for that—“Actions speak louder than words in my book, Charlie. And most of us turned in our commitments the moment we could.”

Charlie took in a breath and let it out slowly, looking out at the water so he didn’t have to look at those dark eyes again. Something about it made his chest ache heavily.

“‘Most of us’,” Charlie repeated impulsively, cringing at himself as he knew with no real evidence it would only inflame things worse.

“Yes, basically everyone who is still around right now to do so did it already,” Frank said, pointedly.

Charlie hesitated, and again, a pang of guilt shot through him at his leading thoughts came spilling out. “So—”

“For fucks sake, Matt committed, yes,” Frank rolled his eyes, that angry look coming over his face, and he had to turn away from Charlie all of a sudden.

“I— wasn’t—”

“You were, and you need to Stop. Lying. To. Me.” Frank cut him off as he turned back, and clapped in Charlie’s face between each word. Then he threw them up with his frustration. “Jesus, Charlie. I’m really tired of doing all of this by myself!”

“Okay! Okay, listen. Before you go all off on me, again, and confuse the hell out of both of us, again,” Charlie scrambled, reaching a hand out to Frank’s shoulder. “Just...talk to me. What is wrong? I am here for you, I promise. I am here now.”

Frank stared at Charlie for a moment, the anger still trying to spark to life behind his eyes now hardening into determination instead as he gave him an even tempered nod with his jaw set. Instead of saying anything, the typically loquacious Frank reached his hand out and ran the back of his fingers over Charlie’s forehead.

“Wha—” Charlie started to ask, but went dead silent upon seeing the deep [Scarlet](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707961518931968/charlie-mcavoy-frank-vatrano-winterlude-dont), reddish Color actually appear across Frank’s fingers before his own eyes. Said eyes widened so far they practically wanted to fall out of his head while his eyebrows almost disappeared under his hairline.

Frank realized the mistake he might’ve made and tried to reel Charlie back while the other was already trying to talk over him.

“It’s not—Charlie, we’re not soulmates.”

“Frank! I just saw—”

“Yes, and—”

“And on _your_ —”

“Charlie—”

“Oh my God, how am I gonna kiss you?!”

That earned a light smack to the back of the head from Frank with a firm “McAvoy, get it together!”

“Ugh, what?! I’m just—”

“We’re...not... _soulmates_ ,” Frank said each word slowly, his hand still reaching for Charlie’s and holding their palms lightly, that [Color](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707961518931968/charlie-mcavoy-frank-vatrano-winterlude-dont) blossoming up more and more, visible along the closed edges of the touch points of their palms and fingers.

With each bloom, a little bit of that deep loneliness inside Charlie gave way to easy relief.

Charlie watched with so much wonder coursing through him. “How is this even possible?”

“Well, we _are_ soulmates,” Frank corrected himself, and Charlie found himself re-panicking for a split moment before he was quickly pulling himself together again with a much gentler Frank this time. “Hold on, hold on, breathe, Kid, we’re just not _romantic_ soulmates. You can have friend soulmates, too, apparently.”

“How does that even work?” Charlie found himself asking now, starting to sound like a broken record.

“You just don’t have any romantic feelings for them, but you still deeply care about their well-being and still have some kind of ‘special connection.’ Like a ride or die kinda situation, but in the boring ways too. At least, that is what I have been able to find out from other people I know who have gone through this.”

Charlie nodded along as he took it all in, very, very slowly.

“Wait, who else has experienced this?”

“Well, I did some research, a lot of it actually, apparently they still can’t figure out what makes the romantic ones happen, let alone this shit.” Frank motioned to their hands still wrapped up in [Not-Red](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707961518931968/charlie-mcavoy-frank-vatrano-winterlude-dont).

Charlie finally chuckled, though he was still filled with so many worries. “So I don’t have to kiss you?”

“Well considering when I asked Matt if he ever wanted to kiss his platonic soulmate on the mouth, he looked at me like I had four heads, so no, Kid, these lips are destined for bigger and greater things.”

Charlie laughed more freely at the chirp, giving Frank another shove with his free hand and then pulling him in for another deep hug. “I guess I am just destined for short brunets, though, in whatever way,” he chirped back without missing a beat.

The way Frank’s shoulders shook against his chest with his laughs made Charlie smile. That deep loneliness melted away almost entirely, and he had never felt more stupid in his whole damn life for taking this for granted.

“I’m so sorry, I really...God, I’m sorry,” Charlie mumbled lowly to Frank, all of the realization hitting him at once, about Frank going into next year and post graduation as a free agent again having never been drafted, about their fight and the other’s anger, about their ease around each other, about Frank’s willingness to help him so much, all of it.

And then, ultimately, the last domino in the proverbial stack of life realizations struck him like lightning.

> ‘ _Considering when I asked Matt if he ever kissed his platonic soulmate..._ ’

Matt and Jimmy…

A unique shade of golden Yellow shared between two men who loved each other deeply, sincerely, over many years, an intimacy that was almost indescribable, one that Charlie could see himself developing with Frank over time who just got him in so many, many ways, save for one.

“Hey, I know a lot of shit is finally clicking into place there, my bimbo friend,” Frank said sweetly, “but I still haven’t heard you say that you were coming ba—”

“I am!” Charlie exclaimed before Frank could finish. “I am, I swear I thought it over already, I was going to come back anyway. Like, I’m so not ready for that leap yet. I wanted another year, I just…”

“Didn’t know if Matt was going to come back or move on next year?”

“Can you stop?! Are you reading my thoughts? Is that a thing we can do?”

“Not literally, they’re just all over your face.” Frank finally pulled back, rubbing his hands all over Charlie’s cheeks on purpose. The younger laughed, trying to shrink back away from said hands. “See? Why you blushing? Aww.”

“Stop! You’re the worst! Like a menace or something,” Charlie protested through his laughs, starting to run off back towards the pier. "Come on, you can stay at my place, no way you're driving the four hours back now."

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to do that?! Come on, we have _the best_ color!” Frank yelled back, running after him.

* * *

"...You got this, you got this."

Staring up at the hockey arena that had become like his second home, Matt stood in the sweltering heat trying to will his shoes forward from where the soles seemed to have melted into the concrete. Closing his eyes, Matt took in a deep breath to steady the clawing sensation in the back of his throat. This particular year with the weight behind his decision to come back and finish out his degree instead of discussing negotiations with the Bruins, the momentum behind the wild run he had had last year, and the last weeks of the injury he had sustained at the end of last season and over the Summer all sat like heavy, oppressive weights on his shoulders.

When Matt reopened his eyes, control had returned to his legs, and he could finally take his first step into Senior year.

. . .

Matt took solace in his quiet locker room, trying to not jump ahead with immediate thoughts of how this would be his last first day as a Terrier, ever. Living in the moment was what he strove for the whole Summer while recovering, spending most of his time not rehabbing with Jimmy and a couple other childhood friends. He was unable to play street hockey with them like they all used to, but he watched them play their last year in the neighborhood Kitchen Cup tournament before Jimmy would be off to the Rangers of all teams and the others would be on their own paths.

Then...then there was Charlie.

Like now, while Matt was coming into the empty space and walking to his usual stall, Charlie was often drifting back across his thoughts like a constellation. Just when Matt thought he had everything figured out about him, the bright lights would overwhelm and obfuscate, making it difficult to locate the particular set of shining dots among so many that had made up a picture so clearly before. As the weeks had stretched on and even now, Matt simultaneously felt like Charlie was right there within his sight, but also gradually, transcendentally drifting away; he had no idea why or any idea how to stop it.

“Frank wouldn’t lie to you,” Matt talked to himself again while he began to strip off his clothes to change, becoming quite the expert on how to do so mostly one handed by this point. Yet the little worried voice in his mind wouldn’t let it go, still wondering, waiting, impatient. Would Charlie really come back? Why? Wouldn’t he want to move on to bigger and better things?

Thoughts of the beginning of last year started to churn while he got on his lower gear and pants—how competitive Charlie had been, how strongly he wanted to succeed, how much of an asshole he had the capacity to be, how little patience Matt had had for him. Matt had long since gotten over that, but it wasn’t something he wanted to live through twice either.

A quick bathroom break had the former captain moving off to the back of the locker room, reemerging still in just half his gear and an under tank and his gold necklace on, his left shoulder taped off in support. Coming back into the main area, he turned the corner.

“O captain, my captain!”

The strong greeting made Matt jump back out of his skin, metaphorically speaking. The way his heart raced, throat constricted, feet scrambled back, and fear shot through his whole body, however, was incredibly real.

Matt’s eyes glued to Charlie’s tall figure standing there, a pure victim of circumstance. The way the other’s joking face and tone instantly dropped to intense worry was almost as dizzying as the rapid way Matt’s heartbeat was trying to figure out how fast or slow his limbs needed adrenaline-filled blood pumped to them.

“Oh my God, I am _so sorry_ ,” Charlie said much quieter and softer, setting the drinks he had in his hands down as quickly as possible while also moving his legs as slowly as he could force himself to. “Are you okay? I totally didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m—...f—”

“Okay, so since you’re _not_ fine...” Charlie insisted firmly but still in the same calm, concerned way. His large hands came to take Matt's with such tenderness the smaller didn’t even know Charlie was capable of, and Matt’s throat finally gave way for more air with the shared contact. “What can I do?”

“H—...Hey, Kid.” Matt cleared his throat and finally forced the smile he wanted to show under all of the pointless, irrational panic. The little smile that came across the other's chubby cheeks helped him to ease the rest of the way into it.

Charlie appeared to go with the flow, thank goodness, as he greeted Matt back with a soft, “Hey, You.”

"How, uh," Matt cleared his throat again, taking a breath before speaking again, "How was your Summer? Heard you had a bit of an Italian invasion."

"Yeah—" Charlie shook his head, though the fondness was there as he started to explain what had happened with Frank.

Matt was so happy for the other, that Charlie got to have something so special. The more selfish part of him was happy that he finally knew someone else in person who had a platonic soulmate and who would soon know all of the lovely benefits and complications that could come along with that.

"—Drove four hours with no warning. Like, who does that?”

Matt clued back in to Charlie’s mini-rant about just in time to answer seamlessly, “Well, supposedly you do crazy things for soulmates, even platonic ones.”

Charlie’s face shifted a moment, his smile softening once again with his mouth opening as if to speak, though no words came out. Then he closed it, and smiled at Matt with slightly brighter eyes for a moment before he finally replied, “Yeah, I guess you do…especially if you’re Frank, who already is a bit of a wild card sometimes.”

“Yeah he is.”

“Have you...ever, yanno, done anything crazy? For a, or like, your soulmate—Jimmy, I guess,” Charlie paused and stammered through his sudden question, and that alone was distracting enough to help the rest of Matt’s body finally relax from the anticipatory tension held there. Early Winter Charlie was standing before him instead of Freshman All-Star Charlie, and Matt subconsciously reveled in the sight.

“Yeah, oh yeah,” Matt nodded right away, his face finally breaking into a little smile as different memories hit him instantly, though only one made it past his lips. “We bonded as kids, actually, like I was I think six so he had to have been seven probably. It happened only maybe a week or two after we met on our first hockey team, the first time we ever held hands. So having those kinds of feelings hit you when you’re young, and your head isn’t all the way ready yet, yanno what I mean?”

“Wow, as kids?” Charlie asked, blinking a few rapid times in succession.

“Yeah, most platonic bonds happen young, unless you don’t meet until after you’re adults, so our parents knew what it was to start with,” Matt explained, his hands moving a little bit with his words even though they were still tucked into Charlie’s. “So, I had never really gotten in trouble before this, right—”

“That’s so hard to believe,” Charlie quipped, dripping with sarcasm.

“And,” Matt continued, choosing to ignore Charlie even if the other’s words pulled his lips up again while he spoke, “As you probably already know, it's really hard to be apart from your soulmate, especially in the beginning. So, I waited until my parents and brother were asleep and snuck out on my bike and rode to his grandparents house.”

“...At six years old.”

“Yep,” Matt nodded with a little regretful sigh. “They lived across town, and Jimmy technically lived in a whole other town but was over there so often I thought he would be there.”

“...You did that more than once,” Charlie said while watching Matt thoughtfully, looking pleased when Matt proved his intuition right.

“Maybe a few times...over a few years…” Matt shrugged, looking down as he felt a bit silly about it now. Here, Matt caught the visual of their hands gently laced, only now realizing he had still been holding Charlie’s hands this entire time, his panic long forgotten. In the same moment, Charlie’s longer thumbs ran over his hands naturally, the motion dragging up such warmth from the bottom of Matt's stomach like it did across his skin, even up a little into his neck and face.

Luckily, Charlie was still chuckling in amusement at the conversation while Matt’s head tried to figure out what to do. Should he point it out? Should he just let Charlie realize it first and pretend like he didn’t see it? Would that be wrong? Would that be lying?

A gentle squeeze to both of his hands sent a small shockwave to his stomach, essentially jolting him out of those thoughts before they could take over. Matt snuck a glance up at Charlie, who had been watching him with a patient, but otherwise unreadable expression. In trying to decipher it, the smaller man’s eyes trailed over full lips.

He found himself wondering fleetingly just how soft they could feel.

“So, um…” Matt tried to say out loud, while everything in him came to an internal, impinging, sweeping actualization as so many blank spots suddenly filled with stimulation, so many connections reappeared across the stars. If he wanted to save any semblance of face he might’ve had left that wasn’t already as red as the practice jersey sticking out of his bag next to them, he had to keep the entirely too quiet conversation going somehow. He was normally such a great multitasker and yet...

“I brought you something,” Charlie offered.

“You did?” Matt blinked up at Charlie, taking him in entirely differently than he had previously. God, he was handsome, and not entirely stereotypically so but that was even _better_. Charlie was a kind of handsome that bent around his features rather than laid over them, creating such unique, gorgeous shapes only further illuminated by the way the other's emotions and expressions were shown through them. Matt wasn’t blind before, of course, and Charlie was objectively a cute guy in a lot of ways, but the invisible shield that had been firmly squared up somewhere along the way had suddenly come clattering down in the last ten minutes.

“Yeah,” Charlie’s smile widened a little, quirking an eyebrow at him for a moment like he knew something.

Matt looked down again, his slightly smaller hands _still_ enveloped by larger ones. Matt quickly released them. Their absence now left his own tingling, and Matt was just now tuning back into his own slightly labored breathing and quickened pulse.

When Charlie returned a few seconds later, he had an iced coffee in each hand like when he had come into the room in the first place, extending one out to Matt.

“You do realize I’m not Captain anymore, right?” Matt found himself teasing the other before he could stop himself, though he took the iced coffee happily anyway. “No need to suck up this year.”

“Hey, we haven’t voted yet.” Charlie pointed his now free hand at Matt and threw a little playful wink at him.

Matt’s brain seemed to stutter to a stop for a moment, and he took the opportunity to stall by taking a long sip from the drink instead. The perfect blend of sweet and creamy hit his tongue with the lovely chemical swirl of Hazelnut and Vanilla he liked even if it didn’t taste real.

“Yeah, but no one is ever Captain...twice...damn, this is perfect,” Matt tried to keep the conversation going but was distracted by the quality coffee he continued to suck down, missing the way Charlie’s eyes squinted happily from behind his own cup.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s not like a written rule, it just hasn’t happened in decades...how did you remember—?” Matt began to question, turning the cup to read it. Sure enough, his slightly complicated order was replicated there save for 'The Charlestown Boy' written on the name line by some unknown barista's messy scrawl.

“Kinda ha'd to forget what the Cha’lestown Boy likes,” Charlie mocked with his best imitation of Matt’s accent.

“Oh you wait, Cha’lie McAvoy, you wait, got a wicked sa’prise comin' for ya,” Matt played along with ease.

“Oh I hope so.”

“Huh?” Matt asked, Charlie’s quick response and smirk not really making sense, or maybe his head was not letting him believe what it could mean.

“What?” Charlie asked him back, his smile softening again. The younger moved over to his own stall finally, starting to get his things set up. A moment later, Charlie was asking, “How’s your shoulder feeling now? You started rehab right?”

“Uh yeah, about a month and a half ago now, it's almost there. Gotta baby it a little longer, about a week, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Matt set his drink down, his hands coming to tangle and fidget together.

“Really? That’s awesome, I’m so glad it’s going so well. That was pretty rough last year,” Charlie offered, his eyes trailing away, shoulders shifting a little while he started to change.

“Yeah, it was, but I had some pretty great people who were there,” Matt replied, turning his head and seeing Charlie pulling his shirt off. The action, again, short circuited his brain as broad, powerful shoulders and torso were revealed further, only outlined and covered by a thin under tank. Looking away quickly, Matt realized he was sitting there still in a similar fashion and quickly pulled his practice jersey on, sans upper pads since he’d only be skating today but not playing.

“Anytime,” Charlie said, sincerely. The clinking of both of the [necklaces](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707985470570496/charlie-mcavoy-cross-necklaces-winterlude) he had worn all Summer had become second nature to him by this point, though it did seem to stand out that bit more in the echoing environment.

It stood out to Matt like a damn sore thumb, or pulled shoulder, calling attention to so many things that had only just now dawned on him if he was reading everything correctly. Was he reading everything correctly? He had given Charlie that necklace out of a purely thoughtful place for his best friend, knowing how hard of a day the draft was going to be for him. And Charlie was wearing it. Now. Why?

Matt needed something to do with his hands, or with himself in general. Coffee would help, it always helped. He drank more of it down like the Godsend it was. When he accidentally glanced over again at Charlie and saw the other starting to undo his pants, Matt’s legs were carrying him up off his ass and out of the room so fast he swallowed wrong in the exact same moment. Coffee sputtered while he tried to hold it in oh so attractively.

“You...okay back there?” Charlie called after him, entirely confused.

Matt, now half drowning, took a moment after he turned the corner to swallow all of the liquid as properly as he could without coughing his lungs out even further. “Yeah! Totally...fine…bathroom, yeah...”

He was entirely, utterly, fucked.

* * *

Some things never changed, like the sun setting in the West, the likelihood of a subway car failure on the MBTA, the Bruins' inconsistencies, and the one of two ways freshmen hockey players tended to act: establish dominance by showing off or keep your head down and hope your skills did the talking for you. Matt had firmly been in the latter category, and had to try to maintain patience with the former as evidenced by how great the first half of last year went.

"So when you run this drill, it's good to keep in mind—"

"Why isn't he wearing pads again?" One of said loud freshmen asked in a stage whisper to his friend, interrupting Matt for the third time.

He'd be struggling more if he didn't have the entertaining platform that was Charlie's cringing face to tune into every time the first kind showed their whole asses during their first couple of practices and tryouts. Normally, a look of pain across Charlie's features would have been awful, but in this instance, Matt got a weird little satisfaction out of it.

"That is not what—" Matt started in his best responsible, fearless Captain voice, until their new votes came in of course.

"You got something to share?" Charlie asked the freshman directly for all to hear, a bit of his own accent coming out abruptly. Something in the tone Matt couldn't place seemed to shut up the new players without a problem but brought forth a new found scowl for Charlie.

That weird little satisfaction planted its roots there in Matt's stomach. The little apologetic and yet still grinning look Charlie threw back at him provided a sprinkling of water.

All of it was a great distraction from why the rest of the upperclassmen and returning team kept giving Matt little looks everywhere he went.

"You're not going to tell me anything are you?" Matt asked Frank out of the side of his mouth after the third person in five minutes looked at him, smiled, and looked away.

"What can I say? I am a man of the people."

"You're supposed to be on my side," Matt joked, though he'd be lying if the whole thing wasn't starting to make him feel paranoid. Fleeting thoughts of old days on old teams ran through his mind, though he pushed them back again.

"In this instance, I am on both."

"Fine, I'll ask Chuck." Matt moved to skate off in Charlie's direction.

"Good luck, he knows nothing!" Frank called after him.

"You suck, Vatrano," Matt called back, all context flying out the window for the heads that turned.

"You wish, Gryz."

. . .

By the end of the two days of tryouts, Matt was an anxious mess again, and he hated it (he really needed to talk to his therapist about this ASAP). He couldn't handle not knowing why everyone kept smiling at him, and a small but noisy piece of him was sure at any second someone was going to turn the other cheek and those smiles would give way to something far more violent and sudden.

"Hey," Charlie whispered next to him, pulling Matt out of his head once more.

The older pulled in a quick but quiet breath while he replied with "Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Matt's automatic response came up, and by the tilted expression Charlie gave him, the younger noticed it before he even did. "Just...is everyone acting different to you?"

Charlie took a moment to glance around, and finally answered when Matt looked back at him. "No, but kinda? I am getting some weird vibe now that you mention it."

Damn, they really didn't tell Charlie after all.

Before Matt could comment further, Coach Quinn gathered the whole team all around.

"Alright alright, the votes are in, and I gotta say, I am both shocked and not surprised in the slightest at the same time."

"Frank's got this in clutch," Matt mumbled over to Charlie through the side of his mouth.

"God help us all," Charlie answered in the same fashion without hesitation.

Matt actually had to bite back a laugh.

"....Your two assistant captains this year are: ...yet another return for Frank the Tank Vatrano…"

Cheers were had as everyone clapped, Frank of course taking the attention gracefully. "Thank you guys, love you all. I won't let you down, not like the girls who don't call back."

"I'd call you back!" Charlie razzed amidst the laughs with the forward shooting the defenseman an exaggerated point and wink.

"Alright, alright, your other assistant captain this year will be the big man Charlie Mac."

Matt watched Charlie's eyebrows shoot up, looking around at all of their old and new teammates alike. The smile that spread over his youthful face upon being handed his number 7 jersey with the new A stitched into the front made Charlie's whole demeanor actually match his age, for once, instead of always trying to seem so much older than he was. Matt clapped along with everyone, a knowing smile coming over his own lips—at least one of his votes had come to fruition. He reached out and gave Charlie's shoulder a firm squeeze, wishing he could express how proud he was in the moment more fully. The shy and humbled way Charlie looked back at him, though, seemed to tell him he got the message.

Matt watched Frank come over and carefully give Charlie's shoulder blades supportive taps while he proudly declared, "Now you're all royally screwed!"

Charlie seemed to laugh more, his taller frame leaning the slightest bit into Frank's presence.

"Alright alright, congrats double trouble. I have no say in this so I will have to live with this democracy," Coach Quinn chirped, another round of chuckles ensuing. "And finally, our captain for this year was entirely surprising and yet not all at once…"

"Here here!" Someone could be heard from the back of the room, a cascade of supportive cheers following. Matt got the strangest inkling like almost everyone but him knew what was going to come out of Coach Quinn's mouth next.

Charlie’s hand found the back of his shoulder in the brief interim.

"....For the first time in _quite_ a while, we have a returning captain of the Terriers, Mr. Matt Gryzelcyk.”

The familiar syllables of his own name caught on a trap door in the floor as if his foundation gave out underneath him. Matt lolled and shifted to the right until he was half leaning into Charlie’s side absently, fingers lightly grasping and his lips holding a quiet apology. The room was swallowed up in all of the happy shouts bouncing off of harsh tile and loud red jerseys. Static crept in, ringing through his awareness and out of ears. Heat insulated Matt with bodies crowding in, so many hands clapping at his shoulders and back.

A strong arm pressed into his lower back, loosened, and reformed a supportive hold, and it was only with the up take that Matt realized he was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt with the silly chants of his name.

“Gryz! Gryz! Gryz!...”

The Senior laughed, all of the pressure built up finally dissipating at once, leaving behind only the head rush. Even with all of the sensory input and everyone crowding in so suddenly, Matt took the thrill with the fear.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Matt managed to get out among the chaos. “Just, thank you, thank you...wow, guys, thanks so much,” he rambled between a few more laughs and a few more inside jokes shouted across the team.

Eventually, things naturally died down, the guys finally peeled away one by one until Charlie was still standing next to Matt at the end. At the same moment Matt’s acute awareness cued back into that firm arm still wrapped around him, Charlie pulled back, and it was gone.

* * *

“Do you think there's any meaning behind the Colors?” Matt heard Charlie ask him while they took a lazy stroll around campus to get their minds free from both academics and hockey, at least that’s what Charlie had insisted when he had found Matt fast asleep on top of his 'Design Strategy and Software' book earlier in the library (it wasn’t his fault that even just five weeks into the semester, his senior level classes were already trying to kill him).

“... _The_ Colors?” Matt asked for clarification at the random question, even running his hand over his other one to indicate exactly what he meant.

“Yeah, like…” Charlie started, sucking in his bottom lip while he thought and releasing it while he continued, “Every couple’s-er, friends' Color too, right? They’re all different, at least as different as you can get with what people can physically see. So like, if there wasn’t a meaning behind it, why wouldn’t they just be all the same or close to it?”

Matt mentally paused even while both of their feet continued to crunch the infamous New England foliage fallen at their feet along the paths. It dawned on him how he had never really considered this question before.

“I don’t actually know,” he answered honestly, then gauged Charlie's response. “You got any theories?”

Charlie appeared neutral at first, probably still in thought while he took a sip of the coffee they had both desperately needed. “You’re like...a deeper [Yellow](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707971543351296/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) with Jimmy—"

“Kinda like a lighter [Goldenrod](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707971543351296/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont), yeah.” Matt wondered momentarily how Charlie knew that, but he figured Frank probably told him if anything.

“Frank and I are like a weird red, like almost [Not Red](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707961518931968/charlie-mcavoy-frank-vatrano-winterlude-dont), yanno?”

“I believe it's called [Scarlet](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707961518931968/charlie-mcavoy-frank-vatrano-winterlude-dont),” Matt grinned over at him.

Charlie rolled his eyes with a small grin himself before going back to thinking out loud. “My parents are green for some reason, like a deep [Green](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707977722658816/charles-mcavoy-sr-jennifer-mcavoy-winterlude) with a bluish tinge to it.”

“My parents are a light purple,” Matt said, “like [Lilac](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707974796083201/john-grzelcyk-sr-kathleen-grzelcyk-for) but a little bit deeper.”

“How the hell do you know your colors so well?”

“What?” Matt defended, mouth open a bit before throwing back, “Did you not read crayons when you were little?”

“Who _reads the crayons_? You just color with them!” Charlie was almost shouting with how exasperated he was. Yet, he was also smiling at him again, that amused sort of smile that Matt had noticed lately made his eyes squint with it.

“ _I_ read the crayons, actually, still,” Matt admitted, a self-deprecating laugh trickling out and triggering a soft one from Charlie. “For your information, Buddy.”

“You’re such a dork.” The larger man gave Matt’s elbow a gentle shove with his own.

“Shu—"

“Don't worry, I like it,” Charlie mumbled softer, his fingers brushing over Matt’s for a moment between them while he looked down at their leaf covered footpath leading through the main crossroads of Marsh Plaza.

At least, that’s what Matt could have sworn he felt, the softest tickle of foreign skin brushing over his knuckles and finger tips, leaving them tingling and nervously fidgeting with the sensation. Yet he felt dumb, knowing there was no way it wasn’t an accident, was there?

“I mean, aren’t purple and yellow like, opposites? What’s the word for that? Jeez, my 5th grade art teacher would be so disappointed right now…” Charlie regrouped swiftly.

“Oh—uh, complementary?”

“Yes! I’m sorry Mrs. Ansell.”

Matt held back an amused snort before adding more seriously, “Well, the name certainly would make sense. But that’s kinda implying that we have an inherent sort of Color passed down based on our parents’ that then mixes with someone else's to create the visual Color we see when, uh, when ‘the moment’ happens, right? I mean...that could be possible.”

“How cool would that be though?” Charlie asked him without hesitation, stopping under a familiar grouping of trees that once laid witness to a ridiculous snowball fight or two. He looked up at the eye catching colors of fire cascaded across the leaves still clinging to the branches above them. “I mean, what if it was something tied to your personalities too, or your relationship, or maybe it represents something that will happen? Maybe Green means you’ll both be into nature, maybe Red couples are passionate and loud, maybe Orange is something I can’t even understand. I don’t know, I’m just sort of word vomiting here, but…"

Matt watched Charlie’s wide eyes full of wonder and passion take it all in as if he was really noticing the unique beauty held within said New England foliage for the first time. His talk about all of this made something inside of Matt turn shy and yet he wanted nothing more than to keep watching Charlie watch the leaves if it meant he could keep laying witness to this.

“It could be any of those things, I think,” Matt reaffirmed, his voice softer than he wanted it to be. Clearing his throat, he continued, “I know a lot of research has gone into trying to figure it out, something about the meeting of perfect biological and chemistry matches in the skin and immune system probably playing a part. But then you hear those stories…" Matt finally turned his eyes away when Charlie came to look at him, even though he wanted nothing more than to see said look better. “...Those stories where everything adds up just a little too well, or some people’s claims about being able to feel the other’s pain, get that sixth sense when something might not be okay…”

“...You’ve looked into this quite a bit,” Charlie stated.

“You have no idea.” Matt gave Charlie a hesitant but honest expression. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met in person who has had this happen for them too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and...well,” Matt stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt those walls trying to come up around himself.

Charlie waited. It made Matt glance over at him, seeing a look that matched the softness of the younger’s features.

“It’s kinda stupid,” Matt admitted with a little shrug, moving to sit down at one of the nearby park benches.

Charlie followed, waiting a long moment before speaking.

“...You’re one of the smartest people I know. I doubt it’s stupid, Matt.”

The reassurance was genuine,Matt knew it was in this deeper way even if normally he’d be questioning the intentions. Something about the pure admiration he saw in the other’s blue-green eyes watching him made him squirm a little bit with the unfamiliarity while his stomach also fluttered pleasantly.

“So, I went through a weird phase, maybe around thirteen or so, when I started to question if Jimmy was actually like, also my romantic soulmate,” Matt smiled, strained and uncomfortable, and washed it down with his own sip of neglected coffee.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Lots of weird things were happening then, you know. Some normal, some just wicked bad, like at school and on one of my teams at the time,” Matt explained, though he quickly moved through with “Anyway, because of all of that, I missed him even more than usual during the week, since he often came over on the weekends. And I just, I kind of clung to that idea for a little while. Looked up a whole lot of information about Colors, or Soulmarks, what have you.”

“I get that,” Charlie said right away, not leaving time for Matt to stew or to ask himself a million and one questions. “I mean, not that I knew Frank that young, but if I was...you know, that upset, going through a hard time, and there was this person who was actually there for me, who really _got_ me, I could see...I could see how that could get confusing.”

It was Charlie’s turn to shift side to side in his seat and look down at his hands while he spoke.

Matt was sure the topic of conversation had to be a bit on the awkward side. Still, those words helped to relax that worry in his chest once more.

“Well, thank you... It was ridiculous, though. I tried to kiss him, once, it was so awkward.” Matt found himself actually chuckling at himself at the absurdity, missing the way that Charlie’s eyes flickered quickly over to him and then blinked back down even as he joined him with a grin of his own.

“God, I can’t even imagine Frank kissing the people he claims he’s kissed before, let alone me.”

“He’s even not a bad looking guy at all,” Matt pointed out, matter-of-fact and clinical.

“I know! It’s weird, like I objectively know that, but there’s this, like, wall there.” Charlie motioned his hand in front of him, and Matt found himself snapping his fingers with his eyes widening in recognition.

“Exactly! Yes, it’s the weirdest thing.” Matt shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it’s cause they’re straight.”

“Maybe, I don't know if Frank is...entirely ruled out but…” Charlie trailed off, his eyes closing for a long moment in an unreadable way. His giveaway was his free hand grasping and tensing at the folds in his pant leg, Matt only noticing after a long beat of silence.

Tension settled into the moment the same way it seemed to settle into Charlie's shoulders.

Then, as if his face was a window into the gear shifts at work there, Charlie’s expression shifted again into nervous curiosity.

“So...are _you_ —?..."

The question hung in the air between them, with its weight sinking down into the spaces between their bodies and between their semantics.

"Holy shit, I probably shouldn’t just ask that outright, I’m sorry.” Charlie cut the tension in half with his inability to hold it.

“It’s oka—”

“It’s none of my business anyway,” Charlie backpedaled, hard.

“Uh, Charlie, it’s—"

“Plus, like, hockey’s weird and makes being open about that hard—uh, difficult.”

“Charlie....Chuck,” Matt tried once more, waiting until the other stopped rambling out his excuses, his own patient look on. “It’s true. I don’t advertise it really but it’s totally okay, I trust you.”

Matt found himself actually telling the truth after it left his mouth, no sense of guilt lingering or worries about having to keep up the lie. It was so, so nice.

“I trust you, too,” Charlie returned, and Matt believed him.

“Good.” Matt reached his hand out, almost taking the other’s but changing to an awkward fist bump instead at the last moment after he realized what he was doing. “I’m um, well I know I like guys, and I might have liked a girl before but it was hard to say. I don’t really—um...I think I have to really like and know the person before I can see them in that way, if you get what I mean.” He was sure his face was a little red just trying to explain that.

Charlie, meanwhile, was tilting his head and smiling like he had finally caught the canary and let it go just to catch it again for fun. Matt was unable to look over at the other, though he heard a bit of that particular smile in the other’s voice when he answered with “I hear you, and that’s totally cool with me one hundred, no, one thousand percent.”

“You don’t think that’s weird, right?”

“No, not at all.” Charlie was answering in that quick, but not too quick way again. “Makes sense to me, you gotta be friends first…”

Charlie went quiet, his face sobering. Then, Charlie started giggling. Charlie was giggling and Matt was slowly turning his attention over to him with the most stony version of betrayal.

“What...the hell?”

“No! No, I promise, I _swear_ I’m not—” Charlie literally pleaded, and Matt’s wide-eyed, confused look that broke through made him want to laugh all over again. “I just, I’m sorry, truly. I think that’s really great, honestly. Really, really great. So great, actually.”

Well, at least Charlie wasn’t judging him. Matt could quell those fears that had risen to the surface about all of this being a big fat joke somewhere along the line. Charlie's sanity level, however, was still not quite ruled out.

“Okay, well...thank you for being so supportive, you freak,” Matt teased, giving a pointless shove to Charlie's sturdy frame as he relaxed once more.

Charlie was almost vibrating with the force of holding in another little wave, a brief flash of what could have been surprised recognition, or maybe just surprised amusement at Matt's chirp.

“Anytime, no problem,” Charlie squeaked. He took a couple deep breaths to steady himself, wiping away some tears that had formed for whatever reason. Matt got the same sensation that he was missing the joke, though here his worry with Charlie was almost non-existent. “I mean, I’d be hypocritical to judge you for that.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, not the um, the needing friendship part, but the rest. I’ve been into guys since high school, yanno," Charlie smiled coy and loaded with subtext that made Matt's stomach do a particular sort of flip. "Dated a girl in middle school briefly, but never really got the chance to find out further,” He shrugged, seeming to not be bothered.

“Oh…” Matt took it in, realizing that Charlie likes men at the very least. Half of him was reeling at that possibility while the other half tried so hard to remain steadfastly calm, cool, and collected. “Well, um, I totally support that too, obviously, and no judgement here either.”

“Thanks, really. That means a lot to me,” Charlie said, trying to be serious and failing. “I promise on every signed hockey jersey I own, I really do mean all of this. Ah, I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now.”

“I don’t know either, but we’ll get through this trying time together,” Matt joked, looping his arm through the other’s.

"'Would you like a nice egg in this trying time?'" Charlie quoted easily.

"'I eat three a day to help keep me strong'" Matt quoted an entirely different reference back in the same manner, their shared understanding, taste in pop culture references, and laughter flowing as easily as the rest of their conversation.

When Charlie didn’t pull back after a long moment, and instead placed his other hand on said arm with a playful, “Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do or where I’d be without you,” Matt laughed through his own, “Probably already stuck in some promising contract with the _Rangers_.”

“Hey, you take that back.”

“Listen, at least you have the Knicks, they still shoot at a net.” Matt’s look turned sly while he rose and walked off like he hadn't said a word. "You coming?"

"Who are you?" Charlie called after him before getting up and mumbling to himself with all the affectionate convictions he kept hidden away, "you little shit."

* * *

One of the benefits of playing hockey was the break it provided from the oppressive, grey blankets of clouds that rolled in to stay during mid-Fall shortly following the start of the season.

"And that," Matt watched Charlie declare his words with a dramatic pause, letting the end of his stick clatter loudly back down onto the ice in front of the group of freshmen, "is why you always deflect if you see an opening, even if it's not _yours_."

He had been playing in their practice drills that morning before their first official game when one of the new centers with a lot of potential and an even bigger ego had yet again tried to push to the net to shoot the puck himself. Charlie had managed to steal it out from under him in a break away and scored easily.

Matt couldn't stop smirking from behind his own stick where he had been leaned against the end of it. Seeing the ‘A’ growing on Charlie was already quite the sight.

The grumbled responses from the freshmen seemed to satisfy the sophomore, speaking more evenly on a few pointers he knew about defending while scoring.

Seeing _Charlie_ growing was quite the sight indeed.

“Our Chuck’s growing up so fast,” Frank’s voice suddenly appeared to Matt’s left, making him jump way more than his dignity could ever recover from.

“Jesus Frank,” Matt complained, a hand pressed to his chest with an easy joke following. “You know my heart’s not what it used to be.”

Frank’s smile widened, bumping Matt’s arm delicately with his hand, his words coming out just the same, “Sorry, old man, I forgot the warning call.”

“It’s good, Bro.” Matt nudged Frank back, seeing Charlie now running through the play with the group once more. “He really is, though. I’m glad he got voted in this year.”

“Yeah, just don’t make me third wheel it too hard, okay?”

Matt flustered, shooting a look over at him. “Wouldn’t I be the third wheel with you two?”

“Nah, nah, you really wouldn’t be, Kid,” Frank smirked, bumping their helmets affectionately. Before Matt could ask further, Frank was turning his attention to their coach who was not even looking in his direction and skating over to him. “What’s that, Coach? What’dya need me for?”

. . .

While practice was great in its own safe, laid back way, there was nothing like a live game to really bring out the best in their teammates. Some of the most contradictory, innermost sides of Matt in particular could only be seen on such a stage, disappearing behind other facets in his every day, interpersonal life.

"—And I think if we keep it strong through the whole of the Third, we’ve got this in the bag boys. We’ve got a great group this year, lets see what we can do!” Matt finished confidently in front of all of the guys during their group huddle.

“We got this, huh?” Charlie asked afterward while walking down the tunnel next to him, pulling smiles from both of them.

“Yeah, we do.”

Skating on the BU home ice with Charlie while fending off opponents in opposing colors had suddenly become more natural than weaving through 80 mile an hour traffic on the Mass Pike.

After BU won the initial puck drop, Charlie found the puck being slung to him, who then passed it to Matt to lead down the ice and set up the initial lines. A quick moment of shared eye contact was all it took.

Matt used his skates to direct subtle messages, moving between opposing players to create holes not previously there but ones he hoped to bring into existence. Said holes were quickly filled by members of his own team, developing complex patterns he could send the puck through to the next man. He’d find Charlie’s eyes once more through the fray, and together, they’d move on either end of the play, constantly performing their game of improv along the way.

Matt came out of their first shift and onto the bench feeling fantastic.

“That was beautiful, such a good start!” Matt expressed, the excitement evident in every syllable.

“So beautiful,” Charlie agreed, giving Matt’s helmet a gentle knock from his own before he turned to his other side to congratulate their left winger again for his first goal, and the team’s first goal of the season.

Matt reached around him to give another fist bump of support to their teammate while adding to Charlie once more, “It’s going to be a great year.”

. . .

A few puck drops and possession changes later, well into the Second period, Matt and Charlie flew off the bench together in the line up change.

“I’ll get 32,” Matt volunteered in the motion, Charlie yelling back a generic agreement which to Matt already meant three more things than he could actually express in coherent, every day, non-hockey thoughts.

Just as Matt suspected, 32 was fast and hard to catch, but he caught him at the board with a clean check. Grabbing the puck, he swung around and shot it back at an already awaiting Charlie.

The sight of the hard side smash into the boards with a stick jamming into soft spots between pads completely rattled Matt, watching Charlie's body fly back from the recoil and thud dead weight to the ice, the other opposing player following suit a moment later with much less force.

Matt’s hand moved to his own head, a dull throbbing ache shooting through it and down his entire right side.

Jarring whistles stopped play, with Matt already hurrying over to the other on the ice, also watching for the medic at the same time.

“Hey, C-Mac, you okay? You took a nasty hit,” Matt spoke calmly with his metaphorical captain's hat on, leaning down from where Charlie had his hand clutching at his head, and his other hand clutching at his bicep region.

“Where's that call?” Charlie groaned, trying to move and squint up at Matt.

“Hey, I need you to stay still for a second, Big man, okay?”

“Hey, I need _you_ to stop…” Charlie shot back, seeming to lose words and instead just motioned one hand in a circular motion around Matt's face.

“ _What_ the fuck, Chuck?” Matt laughed through whispers, shaking his head and having literally no idea what the other was talking about. Charlie

“Stop. With all of this.” Charlie motioned to his face again, and started whining, “It’s not fair, you didn’t even give me... a _chance_ with that face.”

Luckily, the medics got to them just in time to look Charlie over for his clear head injury among other possibilities. Matt gave them room to look him over, though the stubborn assistant captain got up quickly after that to skate off with the team to the relieved claps of the arena, Matt included.

The instant worries, swirling around in his own brain fog, however, drove on like Matt’s need to finish the game in spite of them.

. . .

“You can’t scare me like that, Bro,” a sensitive and smad Frank said while hugging Charlie later on in the locker room once all of the festivities of their first win of the season had been had and after party celebrations for later that night planned.

“I know, I’m sorry I let myself get boarded,” a now more level headed Charlie replied with sarcasm, and Frank only hugged him a little bit tighter. The older’s face was tucked down, unable to see the way it made Charlie's features tense for a moment, or how he silently sucked in a breath. “Seriously, I’m fine Frank. They said I didn’t have a concussion.”

“You better be,” Frank threatened with no ire, finally releasing the younger man.

Matt’s eyes drew to the matching patches of Scarlet left behind across both their bodies, splotches along forearms, a cheek, a neck and collarbone. He was captivated by the way the color appeared so fixed, so part of them, and yet started to melt away on both of them at the same time, at similar but varying rates.

“Your turn,” Frank clapped Matt on his shoulder as he came past him, pausing just long enough for the brief embrace. “Take care of our boy.”

“W—will do. See you tomorrow, Vatrano” Matt called after him, stumbling as he caught on to a very specific, possibly but also not totally important pronoun.

Turning back to Charlie, Matt closed the gap he had left for the close friends, and saw traces of the Color still lingering over the other. Something about it, about seeing it on another person, in another Color, and about seeing it on Charlie specifically both made Matt miss Jimmy and want to blush like a sad mockery of the displayed intimacy.

“He’s clingy,” Matt commented, his mouth starting before he could even try to stop himself. Luckily, it only made Charlie grin.

“Yeah, he’s touchy-feely, apparently it’s been hard on him since _this_ , not being able to be like that in front of everyone anymore.”

“...Yeah…” Matt’s word hung in the air, forcing him to swallow down the meaning hanging there too.

It’s not that Matt would ever tolerate any kind of hate in their locker room, its not that Matt even thought they had a particularly insensitive group of guys to the possibilities of queer relationships, romantic or otherwise. Something thick and heavy, though, still permeated the atmosphere like an oppressive humidity, something still held himself back from even trying to be open within this space about his own questions about his sexuality. Outside of locker rooms and ice rinks, Jimmy and him had agreed, too, to keep things quiet, but why?

Matt knew the obvious answers. He knew intimately the consequences of the wrong people in the wrong positions knowing the wrong things about someone, and how those things could be used against him or someone else. It had been a long, long time since then, his hand coming up to touch at the small scar over the base of his neck, slightly raised and textured added to the small collection of others he'd acquired both in and off the rink. Even in Massachusetts...

“Great job, Capt’n,” Charlie saluted him with his good arm, ripping Matt from his thoughts. “Congrats on the win.”

“Thanks, we couldn’t...well, I know we did it without you at the end, technically but God, it really sucked.” Matt moved to sit next to Charlie.

“Still, it was impressive.”

Matt had no idea how to respond to Charlie’s compliments, thanking him lightly and sitting there in a tense silence before his brain finally came up with a proper question.

“...How’s your, well, your shoulder, but your whole right side took it bad, right?”

“I’m good, nothing lasting or too bad, just need rest and ice, you know the drill,” Charlie explained, moving his right shoulder experimentally before stopping abruptly. “Yeah, not too bad.”

Matt watched him, blinking a little bit skeptically, knowing how much hits like that could hurt, especially with the angle he saw it happen at.

“Yeah, okay, McAvoy. Hi five.” Matt held out his hand, keeping it a few feet away from Charlie.

“...Uh, okay—”

“With your right hand.” Matt pulled his hand back out of reach when Charlie tried to do as told with his left at first. The younger narrowed his eyes a little as he caught up with the older's thought process.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Charlie rolled his eyes as Matt returned his hand at such an angle, forcing Charlie to use a cross body motion to complete the task with a slight hesitation and another wince finally giving way across boyish features as Matt made him reach further and further until contact was finally granted.

“Screw you, Gryz,” Charlie mumbled in defeat, pulling back the moment he could to relieve the painful pressure on the inside of his bicep, finally rubbing the spot there in an obvious way.

“I know, how dare I want to take care of you,” Matt quipped back with friendly sarcasm, entirely pleased while he got up to go get his gym bag. “Take your shirt off.”

“I’ve taken worse,” Charlie insisted, choosing the worst time to take a sip from his water bottle as it apparently ended up dribbling and sputtering all over said shirt instead (again).“W-w _hat_?”

“What?” Matt asked back, entirely ignorant of why Charlie was suddenly having problems as he walked back with the medical supplies in hand.

Charlie’s eyes looked down at his hands, then back up to Matt, and blinked for a moment before he shook his head. “Nothing, I— they already—what, exactly, are you doing, again?”

“I don’t have to, I just saw the hit, and I know you,” Matt explained, sitting back down next to him to show Charlie the items closer.

Looking them over, then looking at Matt for a long moment and biting his bottom lip unsurely, even a trace of that scarlet still lingering from earlier all passed over Charlie’s face before he gave his consent in the form of pulling off his long sleeve BU shirt, revealing his bare chest and both [necklaces](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/629707985470570496/charlie-mcavoy-cross-necklaces-winterlude) dangling there.

Sitting next to Charlie, Matt took in the way bulky, angled arms moved while removing the cloth, the muscles attached there so strong and yet not so defined as to be sharp. Matt was finding that very few things about Charlie could be described as such.

Quickly, his attention was drawn to the deep purple mark forming in the same spot Charlie had been rubbing on the inside of his bicep. It was already the size of a small orange, and Matt suspected it might only get bigger overnight. He didn’t realize he was frowning or reaching out to lightly run the back of his fingers over the affected skin until it was too late, his own eyes widening as he pulled his hand back.

“Er— yeah, so that’s what I thought had happened,” Matt scrambled for normalcy, even while Charlie’s eyes were still watching him. “Did they—uh, have you iced it yet?”

“Yeah, that’s it post-ice,” Charlie's eyes grinned with his response.

Matt only dared to notice it for a moment, his attention flitting back to the things in his hands. He handed Charlie a metal tin with a forest-y, musk, and vanilla scented balm inside. “Here, rub some of this on there, helps wonders with mine.”

“Okay.” Charlie took it absently, still watching Matt as the older moved to the other side and scooted closer.

Matt looked over Charlie’s whole right side, seeing shadows of less angry bruises starting to show through, but nothing too concerning that he could tell. He glanced over at the bigger man, his throat feeling tight all of a sudden for some reason, absently wondering if the air was as dry as it was feeling to his throat with Charlie so close.

“Where does it hurt the most?”

Charlie blinked for a moment, as if pulling himself out of some kind of stupor. “Uh, probably just my shoulder. Not nearly as bad as your injury, but medics and coaches think I’ve got some local swelling.”

“Okay,” Matt nodded, setting to work in ripping off pieces of the tape. Within a few moments, his hands ever so carefully took Charlie’s arm. “Hold it like this, okay?”

“...Kay,” Charlie responded in an absent mumble, eyes trailing over Matt’s face and movements with much more care unbeknownst to the former. His chest was the only thing possibly giving him away, heaving in and out with slightly quickened breaths.

Matt was entirely focused on the task at hand, taking his time in making sure that the tape was placed and shaped correctly around Charlie’s muscles to provide proper support as he had learned so well in physical therapy over the Summer. He took impossibly more care around the bruised portion, leaving enough space for the other to have access to it.

So much thought, so much careful planning was all laid out through Matt's easy, deliberate fingertip ministrations as the slow moments passed between them.

Then, Charlie’s soft, impulsive lips were enveloping Matt’s—so gentle, but so sure.

Matt’s hands crawled to a stop, lightly resting on Charlie’s arm. He was so deeply surprised down to his bones, but so comfortable in his chest, that he found himself kissing back (or attempting to kiss back in all of his innocuous inexperience) without a second thought.

Charlie’s other hand came up to cup Matt’s cheek with a soft groan, pressing a little further into the kiss with the beginnings of that passion Matt had seen the other exude in so many avenues of his life. Like a sieve, it drew out Matt’s emotions from his own hidden reservoir.

Together, they felt it pass through their lips, let it swirl around pleasantly in their minds, and allowed it to settle into their warmth as they pressed in a touch further.

Matt was the first one to break away, with a quiet and amazed, “ _holy shit_ ,” leaving his lips.

Charlie’s shoulders started to shake with his laughs. “Sorry, I just—I should have asked first, but you were right there, and then your reaction...”

Matt’s tongue lightly ran over his still tingling bottom lip experimentally, having never felt anything close to this in his life. Charlie’s words pulled knowing, reserved smiles out of Matt, looking down and feeling their foreheads brushing with it. “No—no it’s, it’s okay. I mean, if it was okay with you.”

“Matt, _I_ kissed _you_.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Matt shook his head the slightest bit at himself, and Charlie leaned into it with another soft nuzzle of their foreheads brushing. “Sorry, I just never—this is so—"

“It’s okay, I feel it too,” Charlie reassured, running his thumb over Matt’s cheek. His words pulled those nervous, light blue eyes up to look at him.

“You do?”

“Y—yes? I thought it was painfully obvious by now.” Charlie was pausing, his own deeper blue eyes looking down at him a little more carefully.

“Nope, but this isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“I don’t know how, I mean look at you,” Charlie gushed a little, his hand coming down now to touch at Matt’s, the latter thankful as his cheeks almost exploded where that hand once was at that alone as he laughed. “Seriously.”

“Wow, you’re— you, actually _like_ me,” Matt stumbled over his own words again with how foriegn they sounded coming out of his own mouth.

“How couldn’t I? I mean,” Charlie paused, stopping himself as he saw the look on Matt’s face, his own happy one turning to worry. “I mean, am I wrong? You seem like you— do you?”

“I do!” Matt found himself blurting the truth with no filter, his hand finding Charlie's. “I do, I do.”

The sunshine returned as Charlie breathed in relief, another little laugh coming from him, pressing in close once more. "Oh, thank God."

“I mean, how couldn’t I? Have you seen you?” Matt found himself saying with a gentle smile in spite of the crawling feeling trying to make its way up his spine.

Charlie answered by pressing his lips lightly against the corner of Matt’s mouth in an unspoken question.

Matt found himself turning his head into the small kiss, less intense and earth shattering as the first one, but instead bubbling up excited feelings within his chest. Careful lips could experimentally press into the softest, most welcoming mouth with the purest inkling of newness, a reintroduction. He was so overjoyed, so caught up in their moment, so content to stay there with Charlie.

So why did the other side of him clam up and constrict his throat, make his heart race, make him suddenly realize how all of this could possibly go very, very wrong?

“Mm, Chuck,” Matt mumbled against Charlie’s lips, finally able to pull back.

“Sorry,” Charlie mimicked Matt's tone, though sheepish. “I promise I’m just, so stoked right now. I’m not normally like this.”

“It’s okay," Matt reassured Charlie, feeling like the biggest asshole being so worried with the purely adorable way Charlie’s open, shining face was watching him. Matt loved it already. “Just, don’t laugh, okay?”

“I won’t, I swear.” Charlie’s hand gave Matt’s a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve never done this before, the uh, the dating, the...physical…” Matt’s eyes drifted down between them, looking at their hands still touching. He was sure Charlie wouldn’t be a dick, but then the anxiety started it’s own chatter in his mind.

“Oh, I don’t give a shit about that—” Charlie responded quickly, cutting himself off with how harsh that had come across and was jumping to correct himself immediately, “No! I meant I do care, of course, but that doesn’t matter to me, okay? Lots of people haven’t done that.”

Matt blinked at both responses, frowning at first before he was biting on his bottom lip to keep from smiling as big as he wanted to, only releasing it to ask “You promise?” before trapping it again.

“I promise, scouts honor.” Charlie did the salute and everything, a cheesy grin on his lips, and the tension riddling through Matt was let out with the laugh that cracked out of him.

“Jesus, you really were a Scout.”

“Yeah! For all of two years, thank you very much.”

Matt tried to recover, having to wipe the tears off his eyes. “What am I gonna do with ya, McAvoy?”

“Anything you want.”

“What?” Was...was Charlie really just flirting with him?

“Sorry,” Charlie replied, not looking sorry in the slightest.

“Okay, okay, I think—” Matt got out through another soft laugh before continuing, “I think we need to be careful, and uh, slow. Really slow. With our team and roles on the team and everything, and our friendship most importantly, I mean, I just don’t want to mess anything up—"

“Matt....”

“And there’s no one else, absolutely no one—"

“ _Matt_.”

“And we might be playing on the same pro teams next year or at some point, hopefully, yanno? So I just—”

Charlie’s fingers came up under Matt’s chin, tilting his head up so their eyes met once more, finally effectively silencing the anxiety that had somehow crept back in yet again. Once he was sure he had Matt’s attention, he finally spoke, “There’s no one else, there’s no one even close...you have no idea.”

Matt swallowed the intensity behind Charlie’s eyes as he said this, his heart fluttering under such a look, both wanting to stay there and also feeling so exposed and vulnerable under that spotlight. “Okay…”

“I’m just glad you’ve finally joined me.”

“I’m _so_ sorry.”

The guilt was instant, Matt hating how much his anxiety always got in the way of everything, how it could impact other people, especially Charlie.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize,” Charlie insisted, even though Matt’s heart was wary of that. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“If you’re sure…”

“However long it takes, I’m here,” Charlie spoke with the same kind of surety with which he had kissed Matt the first time.

A little surprised, a little scared, with the rest matching Charlie’s confidence, Matt nudged his forehead to Charlie's and whispered back, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, I salute you and thank you so much for bearing with me and my first slow burn story. I might've taken that a little _too_ literally, but we're finally here ya'll! See you next week!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Background details about the AU will always be in the Chapter 1 Author's notes, but let me know if ya'll need any further clarification, or ideas? Always fun!
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 8! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm probably ~~still~~ crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!

“I-kissed-Matt-Grzelcyk.”

“You did what?!” A half awake Frank Vatrano stood in the doorway of his apartment in nothing but his boxers and his messed up, gell free post shower hair that had been getting down and dirty with his pillow for at least the last three hours.

“I. kissed. Matt. Gr-zel- Gryz. I kissed Gryz!” Charlie emphasized between huffs and puffs, slower and more exaggerated on purpose even with the shit eating grin that hadn’t left his face since he’d left Matt at his MBTA stop and promptly ran straight to Frank's.

“Why would you do that? Oh god,” Frank ran his hand over his face, the stress already aging him twenty years and making him brace his aching back with the other arm. “There’s so much damage control we have to do now.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you. _kissed. Gryz..._?!" Frank’s eyes were barely open, little slits of hate just trying to bore his logic into the clearly deranged McAvoy.

“I know, and it worked!” Charlie emphasized, his arms grasping at Frank’s biceps with a little shake. The smaller man winced from his own bumps and bruises from the game, making Charlie let go with a brief apology before he was pushing into the apartment.

“Yes, do please come in, Mr. McAvoy,” Frank commented sarcastically, then added more seriously, “Do _not_ go in the bedroom, I’ve got company.”

“Okay, okay, jeez. I won’t stay long, just, I needed to tell _you_ , and I needed to tell _someone_ , you’re the only one I can tell.” Charlie’s hands waved emphatically.

“...Fair point. Okay, but we’re sitting down. My back’s acting up.”

“You’re 20 years old and can lift me with no issue…”

“Hey, you shut your mouth when you’re talking to me.”

They both paused their movements towards the small kitchenette table at the comeback, with Frank finally muttering, “Sorry, you know how cranky I get.”

Charlie tried to not go into too much depth, but after sharing those special moments and then spending the rest of the night just walking around campus with Matt, subtly holding hands between them and talking, it was difficult for him to know what to skip over and what to include.

“Sheesh, McAvoy, either you’re some kind of Cassanova or that came together a little too perfectly if you catch my drift.” Frank threw a wink at Charlie, pulling another soft laugh out of the other.

“I don’t care about that anymore, honestly. Like I care, but I’m just happy he finally knows, and that he feels...the same..."

Frank holding his fingers to his own ear as if he were listening closer was a great distraction for the younger, forcing Charlie to roll his eyes and add in the “And that some people in my life might’ve been right all along about _some_ things, at least.”

“Oh, well it sounds like you’ve got great friends in your life,” Frank smirked at him, nudging his hand to the other’s arm with his mouth softening pleasantly at the warm Color that emerged there. “Seriously, Charlie, I am so happy for you, both of you. I love that kid—not the way you do, you got dibs all day—but I love seeing it happening for both of you, soulmates or not. The way you two work together…” Frank spoke with so much heart, Charlie almost missed his next words, “Just don’t let the whole dating the captain thing go to your head in a power trip.”

Charlie paused, paleing as he thought out loud, “Well, _dating_ , that’s a strong word…”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing? You two are an item now,” Frank gestured between his two hands and then brought them together in simple demonstration.

“...Yes?” Charlie frowned for a moment. “I mean, we’re exclusive, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

“Okay…” Frank paused, tilting his head “Which means…?”

“Listen, it's tricky with the team, and we have to take things really, really slow, which I’m totally fine with. We’ll figure it out as we go along, and Matt graduates this year so that will probably make things easier too, so,” Charlie brisked, with Frank holding up his own hands.

“Okay, okay, I was just wondering, Bro. No rush, and no judgement, okay? Remember? It's me you’re talking to.” Frank kept his calm, and the evenness of the other’s voice helped to calm Charlie again once more, nodding.

“Sorry, I just, I want this to work so badly. I don’t want to scare him off.”

“Frankie, what are you doing out here, Baby?” A pretty, buxom brunette with a sweet face wrapped up in familiar Star Wars bed sheets came wandering out, sharing a similarly half awake expression Frank had sported before.

“Just talking with my boy Charlie here. I’ll be right there, Gorgeous.” Frank threw her a genuinely sweet smile, which seemed to satisfy her as she returned it and gave Charlie a small wave before she wandered back into the bedroom.

“Who’s she?” Charlie asked, bumping the other’s shoulder.

“A girl from one of my morning classes. She’s pretty awesome. Works out pretty well a couple times a week,” he smirked a little bit, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know how either of you do it, honestly. That level of commitment scares the hell out of me, but watching my family get to have that is wicked awesome.” Frank's hand clasped Charlie's shoulder in such a way, he didn't have to guess what the other meant at all.

“I don’t know, it just happened to me, Man, not even exaggerating, but maybe one day it’ll just happen to you too when you’re ready, or not ready, for it,” Charlie shrugged, his joyful demeanor returning while he got up from his seat. “Thanks, sorry for uh...interrupting.”

“Nah, you didn’t interrupt nothing. If you had, you’d have seen a lot more than this, my friend,” Frank joked with a sassy nod of his head, making Charlie laugh. He hugged him one more time before leaving out the door on his own to the sound of young and carefree giggles coming from the bedroom.

“Frankie, you’re so _weird_!”

“She has absolutely no idea,” Charlie mumbled as he shut the door behind himself.

* * *

It was funny how little the little things really were until the smallest gleam of light caught their glint just so, just enough to keep drawing Matt’s attention back to them. As the next couple weeks wore on in practice and at games especially, Matt saw everything Charlie did in such a new light. It seemed he couldn’t turn away for longer than half an hour without catching those eyes on him in some way, at times even staring long enough to exchange knowing, or even silly looks.

Charlie listened, even when Matt didn’t think he was. It wasn’t that he was perfect by any means (somehow thinking Matt would enjoy a big Halloween party with _all_ of his friends, hockey related or not), but the effort behind it all often made up for it (such as the fact that he had basically solely focused on wall flowering with Matt all night. Charlie’s drunken ramblings of ‘How the fuck do you even exist?’ and ‘How the fuck are you this _adorable_?’ were pretty damn entertaining).

And then there were the stolen moments.

“So, during practice tomorrow, we’ll be doing more footwork drills led by McAvoy and Gryz…” Coach Quinn explained, Matt’s awareness of what he was saying going completely out the window with the brief interlude of everyone’s eyes on both of them currently sat next to each other on one of the benches in the locker room.

“...Really want you all to see how much it can improve your game…" Coach's voice came back in, only to fade right back out once more when Matt felt a long pinky and ring finger crawl over his own where their hands were between them, hooking over lightly.

Matt shifted in his seat, his leg pressing closer to Charlie's to hide the view, ever so subtly displacing those butterflies going wild in his chest while also squeezing their hands even tighter together, almost protectively.

Matt’s eyes refused to look down, instead glancing at Charlie briefly who was still steadfastly paying attention to the coach. Looking around further, he didn’t see any other eyes on them. In his peripheral, he could have sworn he saw the corner of those increasingly familiar lips turned upward.

. . .

“Hey, can you spot me?” Charlie asked Matt after the slimmer man had finished his third set on the arm press in the BU gym, still just as dedicated as always to maintaining and possibly building the little amount of muscle his smaller body could grant him with.

Charlie, on the other hand, could have probably spared some and still looked like the hulking figure he was at two years Matt’s junior. God, it was unfair.

“Why do you need a spotter?” Matt asked pointedly, his eyes purposefully looking over Charlie in an obvious manner.

God, it was _so_ unfair.

“Safety reasons, Matthew,” Charlie claimed, smiling with faux concern. Something about it suddenly made Matt want to kiss the expression off of the other’s face—well, that was new.

Matt rolled his eyes so hard that Charlie actually chuckled while he walked over. Standing just behind the head of the bench press with Charlie laid down, the younger tilted his head back to look up at him and smirked with a crude “Sup?”

“Jesus Christ,” Matt blushed instantly at the attention with a shy smile, running his hand over his face.

Charlie was somehow even more pleased with that response while he pulled the weight off of the brace and slowly started lifting his reps. Soft grunts and groans left his mouth here and there, and Matt’s eyes might’ve been glued to the ways that the other’s arm, shoulder, and ab muscles flexed and moved under the ministrations, somehow never quite noticing in this specific way before.

Before Matt even realized, Charlie was sitting up and offering a “Thanks,” with the most charming smile.

“Yeah, yeah, ye—” Matt started, the sound dying out when Charlie leaned down to plant a simple kiss to his temple. What tiny amount of dignity he might’ve recovered was buried again as he flustered.

“Let’s go, I’m starving,” Charlie offered entirely casually, as if he hadn’t just done that.

Matt looked around, noticing how few students there really were, and then turned to follow.

“You’re totally paying this time.”

“Fair enough.”

. . .

“So, when I use this part of the reference, I just have to drop the parentheses, right? But not with this one,” Charlie ran his hand through his not blonde hair for probably the hundredth time while he circled different parts of his essay and wrote notes in the margins, his citation book open on the desk next to them.

“Yeah, you put them at the end of the sentence here,” Matt showed Charlie, sitting next to him in a chair pulled up next to Charlie’s desk in his dorm. “When you’re using the full quote is when it goes after the period, otherwise, it's before.”

“This is so _dumb_.” The groan that left Charlie’s mouth was full of the frustration that Matt could practically feel wafting off of him. “Like, really, why does it even matter?”

Matt ran a hand over Charlie’s back to try to soothe him, knowing this was a particularly sore subject for the other. “I have no idea, it’s really stupid. But I’ll check it for you, don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” Charlie mumbled, seeming to melt under the touch and rest his large head down into Matt’s shoulder. “Sorry you have to put up with this.”

“Hey, come on now,” Matt pulled him in closer while scolding him gently. “I’m not putting up with anything, I’m helping you, and I want to.”

“Still, everyone else in my English class gets it, and I just _don’t_.”

“Charlie, your paper is really good,” Matt answered matter-of-fact before he continued, “Like, no joke, your arguments are complex and well thought out, and original. So what if some stupid little dots and commas with arbitrary rules that someone, somewhere made up at some point don’t make sense?”

Charlie was quiet for a long moment, so long that Matt was almost afraid he might’ve upset the other, or maybe he didn’t understand what he meant. Just before Matt could speak again, Charlie beat him to the punch.

“I wish everyone thought like you did,” Matt felt Charlie's grin against his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt. “The world would be a more beautiful place.”

Sitting there stunned, Matt swallowed down those anxious feelings, feelings of being seen and thrust out on display. He tried so hard to stay present with the other. Charlie had to be telling the truth with the way the sincerity in his voice sounded so pretty.

Matt was at a loss with no idea on what to say back, unsurprisingly. So instead, he leaned in when Charlie’s reddened face finally glanced up at him, and planted the sweetest, slightly shaky kiss.

When he pulled back, Charlie’s smile was so sincere that Matt took a deep breath and soothed over those shakes.

. . .

The [BU stadium](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/630396462368538625/agganis-arena-at-boston-university-winterlude) erupted in a way Matt had never experienced before in his whole Terrier career when Charlie scored his first hat trick that December. The whole team dog piled, a shower of hats descended upon the ice, and celebrations were had for the rest of the rare, high scoring game.

Somehow, everyone was so caught up in the celebrations of the overall win, Charlie was able to hold Matt back in the tunnel unnoticed, pulling them out of the line.

“What’s going on?” Matt asked Charlie, his helmet dangling from his fingers. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect, come here,” Charlie urged, pulling his own helmet off and then dragging Matt’s tired, wobbly legs still trapped in their skates off a few feet from the normal path. “God, today was so freakin' _beautiful_.”

“I know! You were so fuckin' great out there, Chuck,” Matt gushed, all smiles that matched the other’s heightened state, barely noticing the small janitorial closet he was being dragged into. “I’m so proud of you!”

“You were fantastic too, can’t believe I get to share this with you, Baby,” Charlie rambled, impassioned by all of the adrenaline still trying to make its way out of their hungry limbs that were currently grabbing for each other.

Their lips connected with the same fervor, a complete lack of self consciousness, and Matt moaned lowly with it.

The moment occurred so fast that in almost the same breath, Matt’s shoulders and neck collided with the shelving behind him with Charlie’s large figure pressing in. The collision ignited a new fire in his chest, one that warped that moan into a muffled whimper. His body tensed, hands trembled, weakly shoving at Charlie.

The shoves were unnecessary, as Charlie’s hands were flying off of him already with the most frightened expression coming across his face.

“Hey. Oh God. What’s—Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Matt took a few deep breaths, the cooler air burned compared to the warmth he had just been breathing in. His hand found his chest, felt how hard his heart was pounding, much harder than any kind of ache in his neck in all actuality. He mustn’t have been pushed nearly as hard as he had thought.

“Matt, I’m so sorry, just try to breathe,” Charlie pleaded, looking almost panicked himself and keeping the little bit of available distance between them, only his hand reaching out helplessly here and there.

“I'm—"

“You’re clearly not fine.”

“I’m not...hurt,” Matt finally managed to get out. With the panic coursing through him, he felt dizzy, like his heart was going to explode. “P—panic, attack.”

“Shit, I’m _so_ sorry,” Charlie apologized again, his hands trying to hold Matt’s to pull him in closer. “What, what do I do for you? How do I help?”

“I don’t...don’t know,” Matt choked on his words, shying away from Charlie as that panic seemed to seize worse in his gut.

“Do you want me to leave?” Charlie suddenly let go, eyes as big as moons trying to take it all in.

“ _No_ ,” Matt found himself exclaiming, swallowing down the thick forcefulness. “Just, hold on, hold on.”

Matt tried to think, tried so hard to get everything around him to stop spinning and to quiet the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, screwing his face up with his eyes clamped shut and his arms wrapping around himself. He focused on not letting out those soft, scared sounds that were right there under his vocal chords, slipping through on his exhales every few moments anyway. He leaned down so far forward that he ended up sliding down, sat down on the ground with his head resting between his knees, his hands now gripping and ungripping at the tape holding his pads in place there.

“...Hey,” a familiar voice whispered a long moment later, probably the softest Matt had ever heard it. Opening up wet eyes, soft apologies already leaving Matt’s mouth as he glanced over, he saw Charlie sat next to him on the ground with a couple of feet between them. The taller man leaned towards him slightly, his eyes still so scared.

“It’s okay, take your time. I uh, I have no idea what I’m doing, not going to lie to you,” Charlie grimaced nervously before he softened again, pulling his arm back. “But I’m here, yanno, I guess, if that helps.”

Matt took in labored breaths through his nose while he watched the other ramble and look down, look away, anywhere but actually at him. Of course Matt was scaring him, he was acting like a total freak when they had just been doing something mutually enjoyable, consensual, and then everything had just—shifted.

“I don’t...this doesn’t, usually happen…” Matt tried to explain, unable to look at Charlie any longer.

“I would hope other hot hockey guys weren’t kissing you into panic attacks,” Charlie teased, his tone still more apprehensive and worried than humorous, though Matt knew he was trying to make him laugh. It did succeed in pulling a tiny grin out of him.

“Nah,” Matt answered honestly, words sort of spilling out. “Not your fault, these started happening before I met you.”

There was another long moment of silence, and with it, Matt was finally able to sense his heartbeat starting to come back down like cold molasses.

“...Did someone try to hurt you?”

The question was small, barely there if Matt wasn’t paying attention to the silence on top of everything else. Finally forcing himself to turn towards Charlie, he saw the other’s hand clenched in a tight fist on his own knee tape. The sight of it mimicking his own motion pulled him closer as if by some invisible force when being touched just moments ago was so repulsive.

Matt pressed himself into Charlie’s side, wrapping his arms around his middle and taking in a deep breath.

“It’s not a problem anymore. But when I was younger, yeah. There were a few guys in particular during middle school who uh…” Matt paused, taking in another deep breath to quell any residual panic that wanted to rise again. “They just hated me for different reasons, I don’t know, wanted me to quit the team, wanted me gone in general. Some of them knew about Jimmy and I and refused to believe that two guys could just be platonic soulmates or whatever. Word spread around…you know how hockey is." Matt took another breath. "I don't remember doing anything to them first. They’d just follow me around, you know, typical stupid shit like that, sometimes—a couple times, I got kinda jumped."

Charlie's arms around him tightened, and Matt felt the other's face press into his water and sweat soaked hair.

"That was the worst of it, but people talk and it got around on a couple different teams I played before going to Michigan. I had some good guys in my corner, you know, Jimmy, Frank, a couple others." Matt found himself confessing, just spilling the words out onto Charlie's lap as he clung a bit tighter to him. "But not everyone was uh...nice."

"What the fuck is wrong with people?" was the first thing out of Charlie's mouth, voice still lowered but so incredulous with a hint of anger in the background. "I mean, who could do that to _you_? I just, I don't get it. Makes me want to...do bad things." Charlie paused, trying to come up with a clean way to say the presumably graphic ideas of revenge he already had playing across his thoughts.

That protectiveness pulled a small smile out of Matt, pressing his face into the other's neck impossibly closer with how damn bulky their pads were. "I'm just grateful to be where I'm at now, with my friends...with you."

Charlie smiled above Matt's head, his hand running over the back of his short hair. In doing so, he felt a raised line of skin, glancing down to see the deeper pink of a scar nestled there right at and below the typical neckline on a shirt. Somehow, he'd never seen it before. His stomach dropped while his fingertips felt over the skin, and he mumbled out a broken, "I'm so sorry, Matt."

"Charlie, It's seriously okay, I told you it's not your fault—"

"I'm sorry about last year." Charlie dropped the guilt bomb burning such a massive hole in his gut, waiting for the realization in the other to finally settle in the rubble.

"What?" All evidence of devastation remained missing from Matt's face when his look of concern came out of hiding against Charlie's chest.

"I am, I have been, but I truly am. I don't know what was wrong with me, I liked you a lot but you were so good, in every way. I was angry about a lot of things, and I was so awful to you."

Matt's quietness, though normally an accepted and at times welcomed part of the other for Charlie, was now so unnerving. He held it as long as he could, before Charlie just couldn't.

"Well? I'm just telling you the truth, and I understand if you think I'm awful and just like those guys, I have a stupid competitive streak that just—"

Matt silenced Charlie's worried words with a soft, careful kiss of his own. He held it long enough until he felt the other's body relax against his before pulling back. "You're nothing like them, I promise."

"No way."

"Yes. Look, I'm not blind, okay? I sort of realized it last year that you were mad about bigger things than me, I was just the one you could show it to for some reason. But I also just...you're so dynamic, Charlie. I don't think you could be just one way even if you tried.”

“Well, still, it was wrong and shallow and stupid. I’m not that guy anymore, and I'm never going to treat you like that again.”

Matt took in a breath with a soft smile, pressing Charlie’s floppy hair back out of his face. “I forgive you, okay? I said I had already a long time ago, and I meant it. Just, never stop being yourself, okay?”

Charlie sighed a bit in defeat, though luckily he finally looked less tortured and more like the dorky guy Matt was growing quite attached to by the day.

“I just want to treat you the way you deserve, yanno? Be _that_ guy.” Charlie ran his fingers over Matt’s cheek as if pulling the blush of color across it. The way Matt’s insides squirmed, however, whispered something else.

“Matt!...Charlie!” Frank called out from outside the door, his voice carrying down the hall. “Seriously, where did you guys go? I am running out of excuses to cover your asses, and I am not getting paid enough for this!”

“Shit,” Matt mumbled, moving to get up as quickly as he could and gather their things.

“It’s just Frank,” Charlie offered, easy, running his hand over Matt’s back.

Matt wanted to take comfort in the touch, wanted to let it soothe over those frayed, sore nerves so over-stimulated by all of the chaos over the last few hours. His muscles pulled away instead against his will, and he couldn’t look at Charlie while he handed him his haphazardly discarded things.

“I know,” Matt reassured, pulling a brief smile to his face for the other. He moved out of the room quickly after that, completely unaware of certain appearances.

“Seriously, where the fu—"

“You’re not getting paid at all, Vatrano,” Matt called out after Frank who had wandered down the hall past them.

The forward turned right back around and scurried back over to the other two. Seeing the sort of state they were in, Matt’s face still slightly flushed, both of their post-game helmet hair looking even more disturbed than previously, it was only natural for Frank’s mouth to fall open for a moment before a shining smile came over his face. “Oh shit.”

“Dude, it’s not—" Matt tried, but it was pointless.

“I am so, so proud.” Frank looked like he might cry as he hugged both of them around their necks, dragging Charlie down in a subtle streak of [Scarlet](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/630358638354186240/charlie-mcavoy-frank-vatrano-winterlude-dont) matching their loud jerseys to do so. “Ahh, young love. It’s okay, we’re gonna make this work.”

“How long until your graduation?” Charlie asked Matt from around Frank’s shoulders, and they both snickered.

“I can sneak you back in, just follow my lead.”

“No freakin’ way, Vatrano.”

“That’s Uncle Frank to you, one day, mark my words.”

* * *

There were very few examples in this world of Matt’s ability to cling to and fully internalize a sense of safety and home all the way to his core. Hugging into Jimmy’s tall, slim frame on the front of his parent’s doorstep in an unexpected drop-in was the paragon. Looking over his shoulder in the hug, Matt could see the Playground, the street rink he grew up playing on with the older man and their other childhood friends over his whole life, even up until the last hot weeks of the past Summer had faded with the earlier and earlier setting sun.

“What are you doing here?” Matt asked, clutching harder than he ever would have had they been anywhere else, though Jimmy didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“Well we’re playing the Bruins tomorrow, so,” Jimmy pointed out, amused tone on deck as he hugged Matt back just as tightly.

“God, that’s so fuckin' weird, but so cool,” Matt laughed, the kind of jubilant laugh of an awed kid.

“I know, it’s been so fuckin' weird and awesome all at once,” Jimmy agreed, finally pulling back and looking down at Matt.

The [Golden](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/630358700108955648/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) color smeared over Jimmy’s cheek and neck, down his arms, and even to his hands made Matt smirk a matching [Yellow](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/630358700108955648/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont). “I guess I’m never allowed to hug you in New York, they’ll think you’re a crazy Bruins fan that got loose.”

The joke pulled an honest laugh out of the other, shaking his head. “You still can’t stand it.”

“No! No way.”

“Listen, it could have been worse, _The Leafs_ wanted to talk to me, too,” Jimmy scrunched his face, over exaggerating his disgust for comedic effect.

Matt shuttered at the thought, finally pulling Jimmy inside. “I guess you have a point there.”

A few minutes and a few snacks laid out before them later, Jimmy and Matt were sitting next to each other at the kitchen island like they had done so many times before, all the way to when their legs couldn’t even reach the different levels on the bar stools. Matt’s still dangled in midair slightly between the last one and the floor, though Jimmy was nice enough to only point it out when the situation really called for it. They talked at length about Jimmy’s transition from Harvard to The Rangers, what it was like for him living in New York, and how he somehow completely skipped over the AHL after training camp.

Eventually considerate, attentive, stubborn Jimmy asked Matt how he was.

Munching on a pizza roll, Matt considered Jimmy’s very basic question for a little too long.

“...How’s, it, going?” Jimmy tried again, a bit over the top to pull Matt from all of those complicated factors he was trying to cram into his answer and soothe over. This was Jimmy, his first and longest best friend, his safest ally. If he couldn’t talk about this here, how was he ever going to talk about it elsewhere?

“Good,” Matt started, breathing out the response with that tension. The pointed look Jimmy gave him urged him to continue, “Better than good, actually. Really good.”

The way Jimmy’s eyebrows raised at him in question, and a deliberate expression came over his face made Matt already feel that stupid, stupid shyness as the other made a rolling motion with his hand for him to go on.

Matt rolled his eyes and complied.

“I’m captain again.”

“I know, you told me that.”

“Frank and Charlie are my A’s.”

“Yeah, you told me that too.”

“And….I don’t know, classes don't suck?” Matt offered, and Jimmy shook his head disapprovingly at him.

“Nah, out with it, Grzelcyk, you’re all different.”

Matt blinked at Jimmy’s comment, wondering exactly what he meant. “I’m not—"

“No, you’re still you, Dude, but you’re like, totally different. Brighter? More _you_? Happier? I don’t know, something is clearly up, and that's good Matt, you know, positive?” Jimmy quipped the last bit with friendly sarcasm.

Matt felt that shyness creep up a little more along with some of those fears that crawled into his stomach and stole away his appetite, the food on his plate now merely something to do with his hands. He knew he couldn’t lie to Jimmy, he had never been able to.

“I uh...well…” he started, the words trailing off as he lost them again. Sitting in the same spot a little less than a decade ago, he had stumbled over an impulsive first kiss and a blurted admittance of a crush. In the same conversation, he had also disclosed the way certain boys from his middle school team had started to follow him home, had started making elaborate threats and plans, had started following through by shoving him into jagged lockers and into the dirt.

“Who is he?” Jimmy whispered with a little nudge to Matt’s elbow, pulling him back to reality.

“How did you—?" Matt started to ask, though Jimmy gave him ‘the look’, one they’d given each other or anyone else who had ever questioned how they had seemed to finish each other’s thoughts or sentences over the years, a semi-judgmental, staring, dead-fish sort of look that always made them both crack up. Here was no exception. “Okay, okay, of course you knew.”

“Of course. So, who is he?” Jimmy asked, turning to face Matt and lacing his own hands together to tuck under his chin angelically.

“You probably already know that too.” Matt shifted restless in his seat, finally sneaking a look to see the confirmation dawn in Jimmy’s eyes the moment it left his lips.

“I fucking called it!” Jimmy's face widened with his sudden influx of proud and excitable emotion while he messed up Matt’s short hair, all fingers and [Golden](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/630358700108955648/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) trails. “Knew it was going to be that little annoying freshman you had no idea what to do with.”

The satisfied look on the other’s face annoyed Matt, but also provided a sense of relief since he didn’t have to do a whole big reveal. Jimmy was really, truly was okay with this, with him, even after what had happened when they were young.

“How did you know that? Hm? Please do tell.”

“You know how I knew? Because no one gets under your skin like that, Matt. You don’t let anyone, you let them roll off your back or you keep them far away, but this one…” Jimmy shook his head at the memories of his senior year and the many, many times Matt had reached out to him for help with Charlie. “...This one was right there, trying to find his way inside. Sounds to me like he finally figured out how to knock on your door.”

“Since when were you so poetic?” Matt teased.

“You know I’m right. I watched him follow you around like a puppy every time we played each other, I watched how you’d act when he was acting out or when he was doing good things for the team. I do listen when you talk, you know, too, all the times you would bitch and moan and worry about what he thought. It was cute.”

Matt shook his head, his little smile admitting his defeat, knowing the other was (mostly) right once again. “I don’t know, okay? It’s confusing—"

“How is it confusing?” Jimmy pointed out, literally pointing a pizza roll of his own at Matt before munching on it while adding. “You two were clearly meant for each other.”

“I mean, but we don’t—” Matt started to explain, instead just brushing his hand over the back of Jimmy’s.

“Eh, could be blocked up or off for whatever reason. Maybe because you were injured, is he injured? That can sometimes change these things, remember?” Jimmy reasoned with a shrug, entirely Zen.

His words invoked a brief memory in Matt of when he was nine and Jimmy was ten. Matt had broken his arm after a nasty fall on the ice, and Jimmy had been so freaked out at the hospital when he was finally allowed to come visit Matt in recovery because, 'Why is our color different?!' Matt smiled, remembering the way child Jimmy kept grabbing Matt's hand, something that normally brought both of them comfort, but had been disrupted by the way their [Yellow](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/630358700108955648/matt-grzelcyk-jimmy-vesey-winterlude-dont) had become slightly lighter, slightly more transparent. Their parents hadn't been able to see the difference, but their young, still sensitive eyes had.

“...Either way, I think someone would have to be deaf, blind, and in a whole different room to miss it between you two,” Jimmy added.

“Yeah...he is actually, mildly. I was before that. I don’t know,” Matt grinned a little more authentically. It was all still so new to him, even though it had only been a few weeks already of this new...whatever it was with Charlie. “Probably gonna constantly be injured this season. We’re good but only have a few big guys on our team now, most of them graduated last year and we have even more freshmen.”

“Hey,” Jimmy nudged Matt again.

“What?” Matt asked, knowing he was rambling again.

“I’m really happy for you, like super happy, Bro,” Jimmy said, all smiles and all honesty on the table, leaning over to hug around Matt’s shoulders lightly. “You deserve this.”

That’s when Matt’s chest constricted tightly around those words, even as his hands came up to gently rest on Jimmy’s loose arm. “Thanks,” is all Matt can manage to croak out.

“You _do_ , Matt. You really, really do,” Jimmy insisted. “It’s high time you got back what you put out, and if Charlie is worth it, he’ll do that.”

“He does, he really...he does.” Matt smiled more against his will, unable to get it off his face while thinking about all of the things Charlie had already tried to do for him and with him. “It’s kind of crazy, sometimes he seems like he’s bending over backwards before I can even ask, so different than how he used to be.”

“Well, good. Then this clearly makes sense, and you should let yourself have it.” Jimmy finally released him.

“Yeah, still figuring that part out,” Matt uttered out loud honestly for the first time. “Still captain and all, he’s assistant now.”

“Dude, you’re both so not the first ones to do this and you’re totally not going to be the last, even in the pros.” Jimmy popped the last piece of food into his mouth before he was up on his feet again. “You still got my old skates around here? We’ve got like an hour before dark.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, just don’t tell anyone.” Jimmy winked. “Plus, you were out of commission all Summer, you owe me.”

“Oh, so that’s how it's gonna be?” Matt asked, changing gears along with Jimmy. His playfully competitive streak showed itself easily. “You’re on, Vesey.”

“That’s what I’m talkin about, the Cha’lstown Boy is back!”

* * *

With his shoulders hunched forward and his breath huffing out puffs of smoke escaping his nose, Charlie typed away and then backspaced on his phone in quick succession with his lip bitten between his teeth. The twenty year old had wandered out on the back patio of his friend's home, both his drink and the New Years Eve party raging inside long but forgotten.

. . .

Matt didn't want to spend New Year's Eve at home, but it had been more than an hour since he’d grown tired of the larger crowd his childhood friends were running with tonight, and he hadn't been in the mood to go get drunk among the rowdy crowds in downtown Boston. Something about the night as it wore on had taken on a sort of heaviness that Matt wanted to carry alone as he chose to walk the snow covered, street light lined streets of his Charlestown neighborhood instead with white frozen clouds trailing around and behind him with each exhale.

. . .

Everything Charlie tried to type sounded stupid in his head, but he couldn't let go of his urge to talk to talk to both Matt and Frank, and Frank had been AWOL since just after the sun had disappeared.

 _“Hey._ ”

God, he had no idea how he'd managed to get Matt to like him. All he could send lately were stupid, uninteresting texts like that practically every day, good night and good morning texts to round them out for good measure.

. . .

Matt let his thoughts wander while he walked, something he loved doing in the dead of Winter when whispers of soft winds were all that could be heard in normally bustling spaces. He could have heard a pin drop amongst the crunch of the snow under his shoes. The buzzing of his phone stood out just the same.

Seeing the text from Charlie, Matt let out a little sigh, rubbing his forehead unsurely. He got a lot of texts from Charlie lately, every day, multiple times a day. He wasn't complaining, but sometimes he had no idea what to say. At the same time, he also cherished each communication like a small reassurance that their time apart during break wasn't going to be like the Summer.

. . .

Charlie's fingers were again flying across his keyboard and hitting send before he could stop himself. He had no idea where this impulsiveness was coming from, but he felt a rolling sickening feeling like he might vomit if he didn't get to talk to Matt. What the hell was that about?

. . .

_“You busy? It's cool if you are.”_

Matt watched the second text come in while he tried to answer the first, halting him in his tracks. The words were simple, but something about their tone combined with the way Charlie kept typing, then not typing, then typing, then not typing hurt something in his chest and made him acutely aware of the past three weeks that had passed since they'd seen each other.

. . .

_“I just wanted to say Happy New Years.”_

Charlie sent the last message, cringing at himself after he had erased the _~~“and I wish you were here”~~ _at the end of the message before hitting send. He ran his hand over his face while he groaned to himself, "Slow, slow, slow down you idiot."

. . .

Matt tried typing again, and again, Charlie's message came in, along with another wave of worry and some kind of aching in Matt's gut. He paused, running his fingertips over the words, over the 'Chuck❤' they were attached to. He sucked in a shaky, icy breath into his increasingly tightening chest, and impulsively moved his fingers over to another button.

. . .

Charlie had hugged his phone to his chest while he stuffed down everything trying to come up. He had spent his rare time at home trying to make the best of it, to value it, but tonight, everything in his head and heart ached for Boston. He really needed to get it together, it was only another week until next semester, why was he acting like such a baby? Why did everything hurt?

In the center of that hurt, Charlie's own phone buzzed and started going off. He thought of ignoring it, though if it was his Mom or his sisters they'd kill him if he purposefully didn't answer. Sighing, he unfolded his arms and let his phone fall into his hands.

Somehow, he accepted the unexpected Facetime call from Matt in the same motion.

A surprised, scrambling face met an amused, giggling face hiding behind a gloved hand.

"Shit! Hi, uh, hey." Charlie righted his phone finally, smiling sheepishly down at Matt.

"Hey you. You doing okay, Kid?" Matt teased, smiling a little more as he removed his hand and started up his leisurely stroll once more.

"Yeah, I just—I'm not drunk, first of all," Charlie insisted, which was true. He hadn't been able to get any kind of vibe off of the party or the one drink he had that was still sitting next to him.

"I know, your eyes disappear when that happens," Matt teased again as lightly as he was already feeling from hearing Charlie's voice and seeing his face.

"They so don't. And second of all, I didn't expect you to call—Where are you? Are you outside?"

Matt giggled a little bit again under his breath, checking his path every few feet while mostly keeping his eyes glued to Charlie's expressive face on his screen. "I might be."

"Are _you_ drunk?"

"Nah, I didn't drink tonight. Just taking a walk."

Matt panned his phone around slowly for Charlie to see the old town-homes, sidewalks, and the glowing street lamps of [Charlestown](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/630359120100409344/charlestown-ma-in-winter-winterlude-dont-be) covered in snow.

"It's gorgeous," he heard Charlie say through the speaker before Matt turned the phone to face him once more.

"Yeah, I wanted to uh…" Matt started and felt himself recoiling and looking forward. Luckily, Charlie waited, and Matt cleared his throat before he pushed through his shyness in a hushed tone, "...share it with you, yanno?... Wish you were here."

Charlie was thankful Matt wasn't looking at the absolutely stupid thing he was sure his face was doing. He straightened out a little and did his best to ignore the way those flutters returned to his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Sorry if that's—"

"I wish I was there too," Charlie reassured with an honest and content look settling on his features, finally.

Matt finally looked at the phone to confirm, and it was difficult to deny when the other just wore it all on display. He breathed a sigh of relief before he reassured Charlie back, "We've only got a week, then we'll be here for a grand total of twelve hours before our long trip of the year."

"It can't come fast enough." Charlie pouted on purpose now, smushing his face in his hand resting on his knee. He brightened again when it pulled the desired chuckle out of Matt.

"We'll make it. Besides, aren't you supposed to be at your friend's party?"

"Oh I am," Charlie quipped, turning his own phone now to show the empty, snow covered backyard for a quick moment. "It's really popping off, let me tell you."

"'Why are _you_ outside?' is the better question here," Matt asked, just barely seeing movement through a window in the corner of the view behind Charlie of various bodies mingling inside.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders, his hair on display, only wearing his coat for warmth. He didn't want to explain to Matt that being around other people felt wrong and empty compared to him on such a significant day of the year, so naturally, he stayed quiet.

"You should go inside, you have to be freezing," Matt urged.

"Nah, I'm good," Charlie said, ever stubborn even if he had been trying to not shiver this entire time.

"Yeah sure."

"How far are you from home?" Charlie deflected, easily.

"What? Uhh," Matt glanced around and happened to find himself back on a familiar street just over from his own. "Just around the corner actually. Why?"

"I'll go inside if you do."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep."

Matt blinked down at his phone, and he tried so hard to resist the smile that crept up and out of the corner of his mouth at the satisfied one Charlie wore two hundred miles away.

"Why are you like this?"

"I know, how dare I want to take care of you," Charlie echoed a playful sentiment used against him not that long ago, and the way Matt flustered with it, especially against the backdrop of the snow, was the prettiest sight of all.

"How dare you," Matt repeated, a shy but satisfied grin of his own on as he watched where he walked rather than his phone as he made his way. The lack of movement in his periphery, though, urged him to add, "Well?"

"What?"

"Go inside."

"Not until you are."

"Oh my God," Matt groaned, his accent thickening, "Ya lucky ya ain't he'ah, Kid."

"You mean wicked unlucky."

Matt dealt with his ridiculous...whatever Charlie was to him for the tragic minutes until he made it back to his home.

"Okay, I'm here, now get your butt inside." Matt's keys jangled while he fiddled until he got the right one in his hand to undo the lock.

Charlie finally complied, getting up and heading through the ruckus that was the party he was supposed to be a part of. He did his best to stay unnoticed, though of course he had to acknowledge the couple of people who did shout his name a little too loudly as he passed.

Matt, meanwhile, was entering into his quiet, old town-home that blended into all of the others around him. His brother who still lived at home with them had left for the Boston scene for the night hours ago, and his parents were probably already asleep by the looks of it. He heard every shout and obnoxious greeting Charlie got, one that even sounded something like 'Oh damn is that your _boy_?'

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, hold on." Charlie scrambled, widening his eyes in a playful 'get me out of here' look while he squeezed passed a few more people, and the volume finally seemed to be dying down while he climbed stairs to an upper level of the home.

"Your boy, eh?"

"Shut up," Charlie smiled, that hint of embarrassment returning to the edges before he added, "A couple of my friends are just supportive in their own ways."

"Ah, so that was…"

"Genuine enthusiasm? Yeah, honest. I only told a couple people though, I promise. I figured it would be okay here."

"It is, it's fine, I'm glad you have supportive friends. Hold on, I have to put you down for a sec."

Matt put his phone down on the first table near the front entrance, giving Charlie a brief flash of picture frames hanging on a wall before Charlie was looking at the ceiling and hearing movement.

Matt removed his jacket and hoodie, his hat and gloves and shoes, leaving him to emerge in front of Charlie again in his normal attire while trying to smooth down his messy winter hat hair. "Alright, back."

"Same," Charlie commented, the younger having gotten cozy in a bed and some unfamiliar bed sheets like he owned the place.

Matt made himself comfortable on his couch in much the same way, wood paneling lining the walls behind him, both of them flipping on a nearby TV at the same time without mentioning it.

"Who you watching?" Charlie asked.

"Jenny McCarthy, unfortunately," Matt frowned, his nose scrunched up for a moment. "Who you got?"

"Anderson Cooper."

"Ahh, so much better." Matt nodded, flipping through his channels until he came to the same, much less annoying version of the NYC New Years ball drop show that everyone and their mother not in Times Square turned on every year.

"Matt?" Charlie asked gently, pulling the older's attention back to his screen easily after surveying how much time they had left in this year. God, so much had changed in the last year.

"Yeah?"

"I know your birthday is in a few days, which you better not have opened—"

"For the third time, I did not open your gift yet," Matt said, referencing one of the two presents Charlie had given to Matt at the end of the semester that was still wrapped and sitting on his desk in his room. Matt had also given Charlie two presents before he left, and the unexpected smile he'd received in return for the surprise Birthday/Christmas present exchange they’d given each other had been enough of a gift to Matt.

"Good, but...do you put much stock in the New Years stuff?" Charlie questioned, biting his slightly sore lip and waiting for Matt's response.

Matt watched Charlie for a moment, taking in his hopeful expression before he glanced away to think of a genuine answer. His complicated relationship with the holiday made it a bit difficult, but he wasn't completely closed off to the possibility of positivity.

"Uh, well...not like, a cure all or anything, but I've made resolutions before, if that's what you mean."

"Sorta, yeah, that could be part of it. But like, you know, looking back, how much things change in a year.... to a new start, too, with all the possibilities that could happen sort of thing." Charlie looked down finally. "I mean...like I'm just excited for what this year could bring."

A genuine look came over Matt while he listened so well, responding to what he heard, "Yeah, that makes sense. You're killing it in school this year, and so's the team, and you've got that fancy signing in clutch already—"

Charlie chuckled quietly, nodding and lightly interrupting in between Matt’s lull in thinking, "I've got you."

Matt's eyes widened for a moment, his hand coming up to run through his hair while he saw the other's eyes seeking his. Even through the screen, he could see the way Charlie put himself on the line, again.

"...You do...you do," Matt admitted, swallowing down all of those nerves and eager butterflies that swirled around each other at the same time. He did his best to offer a little grin with his next words, "I'm excited about that, other stuff too, but that's pretty up there, yanno."

"Yeah?" Charlie perked, his eyebrows raising.

"Yeah," Matt confirmed softly. "Lots of changes happening this year for me specifically, some of them I'm trying to not think about, honestly, but others I can't wait for and uh…" Matt stalled, taking in a deep breath as he looked off to the side and shrugged. "You're gonna be one of the steady things, like a—er, my constant, I hope."

The silence that followed over the next few moments felt like an uncomfortable eternity to Matt, not daring to look at Charlie who, unbeknownst to him, kept watching him in awe.

_‘Thirty seconds left of the year folks as we get ready for the countdown!’_

The tv seemed to rip both of them away from the conversation, both of them sitting upright with the shift.

“Well, here it comes,” Matt said. “You ever go down there with all the people?”

“Nah, not yet. Kinda want to, but I’ve also heard it’s a shit show.” Charlie smirked with his next words, looking at Matt again through his phone. “Besides, next year I’m getting my New Years kiss from you, the right way.”

A charmed, surprised laugh came out of Matt, breaking out into a huge smile as those butterflies swarmed.

_‘10….9…..8……’_

Charlie’s smirk melted into his own smile, a little laugh escaping him, too.

_‘7…...6…..5…..’_

“Yeah, I’m down,” Matt agreed with a small surge of confidence and with a nod to seal the deal.

_‘4....3…..’_

“Yes!” Charlie cheered with a little fist pump.

_‘2….1…..Happy New Year!’_

Charlie and Matt found themselves in that liminal space between two years, the rare time when their age gap was temporarily reduced by one, looking at each other through electronic screens while everyone on TV and presumably on the East Coast were sharing their New Years kisses and hugging their loved ones close. They didn’t need words to convey what was so plainly obvious; their aching disappointment from the missed opportunity was a shared experience.

Then, Matt brought his fingers to his mouth and kissed them. He gave the kiss to Charlie by touching his phone’s front camera.

Charlie blinked for a moment, color flooding his cheeks and his own butterflies coming to life in his chest. The dumbest smile graced his features before he was quickly returning the gesture.

Both of them held it for a long moment, after everyone else had parted.

“Happy New Year’s, Chuck,” Matt spoke before finally pulling his hand back.

“Happy New Year’s, Matt,” Charlie spoke back, mirroring him.

Both men tasked themselves with setting up their phones so they could keep talking and seeing each other while they settled in for the night, TV long forgotten, watching the other fighting off sleep until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. While their bodies settled into sleep, their hearts settled too.

* * *

The soft loll of the large bus rolled Charlie’s head back and forth on Matt’s shoulder. The two were huddled up in the front of the bus at the younger’s insistence, and it was difficult to say no when things like this kept happening to Matt as a result. They had been listening to music, an earbud each, before Charlie had knocked out about a half hour ago, not long after they'd left the airport. Matt was occupying himself with some of his upcoming marketing reading assignments, though taking little glances at Charlie’s relaxed, adorable face was much more attention grabbing.

“Okay, and then you’re going to switch with Macleod and—Listen, Pal. I am doing my best here, just follow the plan,” Matt heard Frank talking in the seats behind them, having no idea what he was up to.

“Hey,” Frank tapped Matt on the shoulder next, the captain pretending to be pulled out of his reading to glance up. “Coach wanted me to give you this before we get to the hotel.”

The offered room key was extended out to Matt, and he took it with his eyes narrowing slightly. “Did he want you to give me _this_ one?” He asked.

“Lemme see,” Frank took the card back, read over the number, and then nodded with a proud grin as he handed it back. “Yep, totally wanted you to have this one.”

Matt wasn’t convinced in the slightest, though his blank looks did nothing to phase Frank as he smirked and nodded his head at Charlie.

“Look at this sap.”

“What? He just fell asleep and it happened.” Matt looked at Charlie, the softest of grins on his face because it really was so damn precious. Still, the gnawing feeling in his stomach and the possibility of their teammates across the aisle getting a clue at any moment had him gently moving said shoulder to try to wake him. “Hey, Charlie, I think we’re here.”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m a Yankee’s fan kissing right up on Rivera.” Frank shook his head as the bus pulled to a stop. “You know, I bet most of the guys already know, you don’t have to be so secretive. We love you both anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Matt asked, his tone careful, insides quivering from an invisible chill.

“Just, you two, it makes sense. You already work so well together all the time, on the ice, off the ice,” Frank rambled, moving into the aisle again as their team started to file out while straightening out his bag on his shoulder. “Just, relax, Kid. Enjoy yourself, at least for tonight. A little gift of exclusivity from me to both of you.”

The wink thrown at him by Frank was anything but comforting, making Matt’s stomach do a complete somersault. He glanced over, realizing his shoulder felt a lot lighter and saw Charlie’s sleepy, slightly confused face just staring at the back of Frank’s head like he could bore a hole there.

“Why is he like this?”

His defensive partner’s bluntness helped to quell the burning embarrassment trying to bubble up. Instead, Matt shook his head amused, “I have no idea.”

“I am so sorry.”

“You’re not his keeper,” Matt joked, and then added more seriously, “and there’s nothing to apologize for.”

Charlie glanced at him with his own skeptical look, but Matt was up and gathering his things from the compartments above the seats before he could say anything else.

“Now, did you forget your jacket this year, Chuckie?” Matt asked Charlie in a strange, familiar, silly voice that had the other chuckling instantly.

“Oh my God, _stop_ ,” Charlie insisted, scooting closer to get up after Matt moved. Of course, he didn’t realize he had a perfect view of the way Matt’s shirt rode up as he stretched up on shorter limbs to reach the last bag in the back. Having grown up with respect drilled into his head over and over again by all of his sisters, his mom, and even his dad, Charlie’s cheeks turned a shade darker and he looked away, pretending to be more interested in his phone and not trying to get rid of all of the images that came barreling into his mind at once.

“Here,” was the only warning Matt gave before setting Charlie’s heavy bag in his lap, effectively squashing any temptation with his own grunt. After Charlie insisted he was fine, really, they finally managed to step out into the biting, unforgiving Michigan air.

. . .

The game looming over thoughts of the following day did nothing to quell the strange, sort of reverse Deja Vu Matt was currently experiencing while they went up to the front door. He knew they were playing a completely different team in a completely different city this year, and that it was pure coincidence that they found themselves in Michigan again, having played in other places in his first two years, but something about it just felt...heavier.

The wet thunk against his back was definitely heavier.

“Are you really starting this right now?” Matt asked, whipping around and dropping his bag on the shoveled sidewalk.

“What?” Charlie asked, quickly moving to hide his snow covered gloves behind his back mysteriously matching the snow clung to the back of Matt’s North Face jacket. “You can’t prove anything.”

“Oh really?” Matt countered, taking a few experimental steps forward.

Squaring off against each other for a moment, eyes locked as if it really were life and death, both men lunged for the ground to gather up the snow in their respectful hands as quickly as possible. Coming up at the same time, they both froze, staring each other down as if daring the other to make the first move.

“...What the hell are we doing?” Charlie asked finally, making both of them laugh.

They both answered the rhetorical with a snowball to the chest each, repeating the process until two bodies had somehow fallen over each other into the white blankets of fluffy, crystallized ice.

. . .

“That was p—pretty stupid,” Charlie admitted through grinning, chattering teeth, crowded behind Matt as the green light beeped on the lock and the door to room 4873 was pushed open.

“Maybe a little,” Matt agreed in much the same capacity, his own shivers actually visible for once under his jacket while they walked in. Straining into the bathroom to his immediate right for a towel, he pointed out, “You started playing dirty when you shoved that snow down my shirt though.”

Both men were so caught up in their back and forth and in rushing over to the radiator along the wall to crank it that they failed to take notice of the plush, dark navy carpets, sky colored walls lined with sand colored trim and driftwood colored furniture around them. They raced to pull all of their wet clothes off and away, including outerwear, pants, shoes, socks, and even their shirts. They laid them over various services to attempt to dry while missing the lilac brushings within the paint on the walls, and the deep green of the comforter set stretched across the one and only bed.

“Dirty or creative, whichever way you’d like it.” Charlie watched Matt's reaction oh so innocently.

The older definitely felt a jolt move through his limbs, already admonishing himself for his strong reaction at such harmless flirting. Matt once read somewhere that fear and excitement ran on the same neural pathways in the brain, and it had never made more sense than in that moment as he felt like he was being torn in two different directions.

“Why not both?” is what left Matt’s mouth in the aftermath of that struggle, even while he was growing acutely aware of their sudden lack of clothing compared to before, save for their under clothes.

The surprise flashed across Charlie’s face for a quick moment.

“It, uh…” he started, biting his own bottom lip, eyes trailing over Matt's face with his voice dipping in volume while he slowly closed the gap between them. “It makes for some interesting ways to warm up, for sure.”

Instead of immediately kissing him or going for it the way Matt’s nervous heart expected, Charlie's frozen fingers found Matt’s hands, rubbing just firm enough to generate that desired heat. It made Matt’s eyes blink behind dark eyelashes when he looked down at said touches with his own eyes. When Charlie started using both of his larger, thicker hands to try to warm one of Matt’s at a time, the smaller found himself slowly melting into the touch.

“ ...How do you just know?”

“How do I know what?” Charlie asked back in the same quiet tone Matt used, switching hands.

“This…” Matt muttered dumbly while indicating their joined hands, feeling so much at such simple actions he thought he might drown. His self consciousness slipped through with “I don’t know…”

“I don’t know either, actually,” Charlie smiled sheepishly, his rounded features filling out even more. “Just...feels right, yanno?”

Matt nodded, unable to find words for a comfortable amount of time while feeling finally came back to their hands. Instead of speaking, he took Charlie's lead trying to do what felt 'right'. He gingerly pulled his hands back to grab for that towel he'd snagged before. Wrapping it around the taller's head to encourage him to bend down, the shorter ran said towel over Charlie’s already prone-to-chaos hair.

The soft laugh that left a carefree Charlie was so cute that Matt almost wanted to cry. God he felt so ridiculous for the stupid smile on his face, but he didn’t actually _care_ in that brief window and that felt _good_.

It was here that Matt's sight just so happened to trail down while running the towel over the other’s neck and shoulders now, seeing Charlie still wearing both [necklaces](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/630396051763937280/charlie-mcavoy-cross-necklaces-winterlude). It brought a smile of recognition to his face, with the rest of the pretty, pretty sight widening his pupils in desire.

It was Charlie’s small sigh that clued Matt in to the fact that his own fingertips were actually trailing over his chest in the dips and expanses of solid muscles in addition to the thoughts dancing around in his head. The towel that was once drying Charlie’s head hung forgotten around his shoulders. Matt gasped at himself, mortified as he tried to pull his hands away.

“Shit, I—”

Charlie’s hands returned to Matt's, pulling them back in and pressing them there. “It’s okay, you can touch wherever you want.”

Matt chanced a glance up, seeing the over the top way Charlie smirked, making him grin with a hint of that desire he kept trying to hide. He resettled. “You sure?”

“Oh Babe, you have no idea how sure,” Charlie spoke softly in that sticky sweet way that came shining out of the younger at times, especially times like these.

Matt blushed, his hands resting flat. He started to experimentally move them once more, feeling up over those strong arms and shoulders as well. Little pleasant flickers of pleasure crawled up Matt’s spine as soft cotton now moved through his own hair, Charlie taking care to dry him in return.

“God, you’re so...beautiful,” Matt whispered, unable to hold the words in any longer as they came spilling out but still feeling so nervous for Charlie to hear them at the same time.

Charlie’s movements only faltered for a moment as the words landed, pulling a light flush to his cheeks as he looked down for a moment with a mumbled, “Thanks.” The younger didn’t let it stop him for long, leaning in to plant a kiss to Matt’s forehead as he tossed the towel aside and pulled him in closer, his lips taking their sweet time down Matt's temple. “So are you, you know.”

“No way.”

Matt didn’t mean to say it so quickly, but the idea was still so strange, so disconnected in his head even though Charlie clearly meant it. He instantly felt like an asshole. “Sorry, I—thank you, seriously.”

“Matt, you really are,” Charlie doubled down in earnest, still so careful. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I...” Matt struggled to find any words, any excuses or lines he had learned over the years to perform in situations like this. He struggled because he didn’t _want_ to give Charlie any bullshit lines. All he had was the truth. “I don’t get it.”

“What?” Charlie asked, almost sounding hurt.

“No! No, no, no, I mean, I don’t get why you—fuck, that sounds bad no matter what.” Matt shook his head at himself and pushed himself to finish what he’d started. “I don’t understand what you see in me. I believe _you_ , I just...don’t get it.”

Naturally, silence followed after Matt shattered the mood to pieces, though it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d ruined something with his anxiety. He heard his own words replayed over and over in his mind, sounding worse with each repetition, making his stomach clench. He tried to pull away, unable to look at Charlie who was still watching him.

“You believed in me when you didn’t even know me,” Charlie uttered, and Matt halted his movements even while that invisible spotlight burned so bright on his skin. “Like, you were so patient, and so nice to this idiotic high school kid, and then when I came up you still tried to treat me with respect even when I was being...a little freakin' bitch, not gonna lie.” A smile came through with Charlie’s words, Matt only briefly glancing up to confirm it before looking down again. “You caught on to things about me I never let _anyone_ know about, like you really _saw_ me….and you didn’t judge me for it.”

Matt was putting in all of his effort to pay attention to the words knowing how important they were, how vulnerable Charlie made himself infront of Matt like it was second nature by now. Like his best days in the power play, he didn’t let hardly one pass him, even if they were a bit difficult to take in and keep track of at first.

“And I just...I don’t know, something about you just lights up something in me and it feels right. Like, we just... _fit_ , right?”

A long moment of silence paused, Matt’s lagging brain still trying to play catch up. He knew a question had hung in the air, and he knew he needed to answer it, he just couldn’t figure out what Charlie had said specifically. Asking him to repeat that would have been awful, given the context, and Matt was trying incredibly hard to stay calm.

“Yes,” he found himself saying, another beat before he added with a little more clarity and a splash of wit as it all finally caught up with him, “Right, yes. Right and Left, yanno.”

Somehow, Charlie chuckled and didn’t seem to notice Matt’s fuck up, and he finally let himself relax into the guilt laid heavy there for not being able to be authentic in such an important moment.

“Come here.” Charlie guided them the couple of feet that had been separating them and the side of the bed. “So I just...we don’t have to do this, we can just chill, and I’ll be happy, okay?”

Matt waited a beat, Charlie’s eyes widened expectantly.

“Okay, sorry, yes okay.” Matt shook his head quickly as he answered, seeing Charlie needing that verbal reassurance.

“Okay. But, since we _do_ have the room to ourselves…” The younger’s smile turned wicked, wicked pleased with himself at least before softening again. “I just want to hold you and kiss you for a while like this, if you are okay with that. We absolutely do not have to go further, plus I don’t have the right stuff, yet, and we are _not_ doing that without the right stuff.”

Matt’s mouth fell open a little in surprise, finally glancing up at Charlie fully and not hiding anymore. The idea alone that Charlie proposed was more than Matt had ever done, and he found himself torn between two extremes: really, really wanting to do that and so much more with Charlie driven by all of these deep feelings for him rolling around inside of Matt, and still being so nervous to even consider it.

But this, this was a lovely, brilliant compromise.

Matt breathed, all of his pent up anxiety finally releasing with how safe Charlie had made him feel. “I am totally okay with that.”

“Good,” Charlie smiled, leaning in to kiss Matt sweetly. Then, as if remembering, he pulled back. “But if you’re suddenly not okay with this that’s okay too, I’ll totally stop.”

“You—you do need to stop, actually.”

“Oh.”

“No, not literally, just with the, the sheer _heart_ always coming out of you. You’re going to rot all of my teeth out one day, give me a heart attack, somethin',” Matt teased harmlessly, clutching his own chest in demonstration.

“Oh, well in that case, you’ll just have to learn to live with it, I guess.” Charlie looked down shyly, for once.

Matt’s smile widened, “I think I can do that.”

The senior leaned in and kissed the sophomore first this time, head angling to find slightly hidden lips, light and chaste. Without warning, he froze up with the initiative in that moment, waiting for the other shoe to finally drop, for the punchline of the joke to finally hook him off the proverbial stage he kept being thrust back and forth on in his head. The way those soft lips pressed back, though, soothed over those fears in the same way warm skin pulled close and flush soothed over the last of the damp, biting cold of the melted snow soaked into their skin.

Charlie’s arms wrapped around his waist at the same time Matt’s wrapped around the other’s neck, his movements still a bit awkward, like his limbs were too heavy or just a touch uncooperative. His self-consciousness seemed a bit unnecessary with the way Charlie’s smile broke up their kiss in the best way.

“Mm, come here,” Charlie spoke low, inviting, sending a small shiver down Matt’s spine with it. Without letting them go, Charlie looked into his eyes and walked them the last couple of steps to the bed, running his hands up and down Matt’s sides in the process. The sheer sensation of how those hands fit around him was enough to make Matt actually swoon.

Then...then Matt fell.

Matt fell back onto the bed that hit his romance-weakened calves, at least, but he still fell backwards before Charlie could catch him or the few huffs of a laugh out of shock that left his mouth. The older’s face looked away, feeling so viscerally inept and silly, but found himself laughing, too, with a little grumbled, “ _Fuck me_.”

“You okay?” Charlie asked, kneeling onto the bed and coming to hover over him.

“Just once, one time in my damn life I’d like to be like...smooth or something,” Matt bitched lightly, shaking his head until the back and forth motion brought his view back up to see Charlie above him. His throat went dry with it, croaking out a quieter, “Wow, hi.”

Now, Charlie finally let himself laugh freely, eyes going squinty with it. Matt’s chest squeezed with something heavy and grounding and powerful. Matt's hands tangled through that thick, damp, floppy mess of hair while Charlie managed to get out a little, “Hi,” back between chubby cheeks.

Soft kisses gave way to careful, slow, deeper ones paired with strong limbs tangling and brushing. Hands explored new expanses of skin for the first time. Lips released soft words or groans.

“God, you feel so right.”

“So do you.”

For the very ~~first~~ second time, the rest of the world around them completely melted away.

. . .

Soft, warm blankets and familiar, white, frosted windows swirled under and around and through Charlie’s head. He was falling, suspended, the edges of sleep still trying to cling tight. That tightness gradually released its hold on his body and awareness, softly bottoming him out in the safety of a hotel bed, and his eyes lazily blinked open.

Sleep looked a lot like an adorable man with an impossible last name wrapped all around his middle, face relaxed without a trace of worry sinking into the edges of closed blue eyes or almost sanguine lips.

Charlie ran the back of his fingertips over Matt’s forehead, brushing some of his short, dark strands up and out of his face. Matt’s legs were tangled through his, so much of their skin touching and pressed together, on display with most of the blanket having been kicked off them at some point in the night.

The little touch had Matt nudging in that much closer to Charlie’s neck and collarbone, any closer and his mouth would be brushing skin.

The twenty year old found himself in a hotel bed, far away from home, a blush creeping its way down his shoulders as the feeling of being wanted, being truly needed in this specific way came to rest on him for the first time. He was sure, so absolutely sure that there were facets of his own head and heart he couldn’t quite understand or put into concepts yet, but he felt them all keenly in such a complete way that he hadn’t been able to before. Charlie didn't even notice the lack of Color between all of the warmth, the once nerve inducing planes of contact shared between them now.

“God, I love you,” Charlie whispered, barely forming actual words past his lips and into the open air, but they were born just the same.

He was okay when Matt didn’t answer him back, when he kept sleeping and clinging closer than anyone else ever had. Charlie had learned over the past year and a half how the most precious things in his life had hardly ever happened on his own schedule.

Charlie could wait.

. . .

“Macleod, McAvoy, Vatrano!” Loud shouts followed by three rapid wraps on their door ripped Matt out of his sleep immediately, whipping his head back towards the still closed door. “Let’s go, get up! Bus call is in forty-five!”

“‘The hell is up with Coach—” Charlie’s groggy voice emerged from behind Matt where he had been wrapped around the smaller, already trying to nuzzle back into his back.

“We have to get up,” Matt stiffened, all signs of sleep gone from his voice. His heartbeat was already up in his throat, tension already tightening his limbs as he moved to get up.

“Hey, wait, wait,” Charlie mumbled, his arm moving around Matt and pulling him back in. “We have forty five whole minutes. I know to you—”

“We need to—to get ready,” Matt found himself saying, driven by this automatic motor pushing him along, powered by the resounding sounds of their defensive coach’s voice still shouting through other doors down the hall trying to get all of the stragglers up. “How did my alarm not go off?”

Charlie released him, and Matt was out of the bed in a hurry to gather his things and to pull out his change of clothes.

“...How do you think Frank manages to rearrange everyone’s rooms and not get caught?” Charlie asked after a moment with wonder in his voice.

Matt paused his movements, seeing Charlie sitting on the edge of the bed. He absently played with his necklaces by running them along their chains that grazed over his full, bottom lip while his eyes looked down at his phone. A little thrill of heat settled in Matt’s core at the sight for a reason he couldn’t begin to process, and it was almost enough to distract him.

Almost.

“I don’t know.” Matt tore his gaze away, pushing down everything as his need to maintain control gave rise once more. He went to the bathroom to change, though just before he closed the door, he paused as it hit him all at once.

Poking his head back out, Matt watched Charlie’s back while he carefully asked, “How did you know it was Frank?”

The younger looked over his shoulder at him, big eyes amused with a trace of something that left a bittersweet taste in Matt’s mouth as he replied with a small smirk, “You think this is his first rodeo?”

Matt huffed his own amused sound on the outside, closing the door just as another wave of apprehension struck him. He rubbed over his throat, trying and failing to will away the storm that followed him as of late. He couldn’t push away the impending feeling of how this had happened before.

Charlie _knew_ , Charlie had known first, Matt had had absolutely no idea and somehow Frank had known all along.

Little moments shared in the locker room, looks that lasted too long, small arm or knee touches somehow pulled together, odd coincidences that had no purpose, their prearranged hotel incident (i e. accidental cuddling) a whole year ago, Charlie disappearing after the Beanpot and acting so distant and different upon returning, how badly Matt had felt in his absence and like he’d _missed_ him ever since...since then, or maybe the draft, maybe over the Summer, maybe the start of this year when things _finally_ seemed to start to feel okay again—Matt’s felt this way since last year.

Last _year_ …

Cold water splashed on his face, Matt holding his breath until it slipped through the cracks in his fingers, rinsed and repeated. The freshly twenty-two year old pictured an identical freshly twenty-one year old doing the same song and dance he had already learned in therapy more than twelve months prior, same state, different city, different hotel room.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Charlie’s worried voice came through the door, echoing through his memory.

> _‘Matt?...You okay in there?’_

Matt was forced to stop, turning off the water with unsteady arms and drying his face with a “Yeah, I’m good, almost done.”

Matt hurried into fresh clothes in record time, being more careless than he might have been previously as he exited the bathroom a minute later.

Charlie was still standing there, and before Matt could rush past him, caught him in strong, steady arms.

“ _Matt_.”

“What?!” Matt snapped back at him, already hating it the moment it came out.

“I just—” Charlie started. “I’m still here.”

A pang of guilt cut through that anxious need held tight around Matt’s throat for a brief reprieve, and he frowned deeply, shaking his own head. “I’m sorry. Coach just kinda freaked me out, I think.”

“It’s okay, just…”

Charlie tilted his head down, pressing their foreheads together, simple and sweet.

Matt felt himself standing before that endless pool of everything safe and warm and _good_ they’d gotten lost in the night before, yearning to tip back over that edge.

When Charlie didn't see Matt move away, when he seemed to melt into his touches and finally relax a little bit, Charlie kissed him easy.

Matt’s head turned cottony with the little buzzes of pleasure and ease Charlie’s lips seemed to bring him, his body melting further into the embrace. The other side of his irrationality, the whimsical, idealistic side not plagued by fears of the future, desperately wanted to stay there for however long it took to satiate these desires, to take his time and just _be_ with Charlie.

“Fifteen minutes!”

Another harsh call and loud pounding through their door jolted both men apart, the same call repeating on the next door down from them, and so on.

“Shit.” Charlie finally pulled back from Matt, the reluctance written all over him so plainly. “This is so _dumb_.”

“It’s okay,” Matt reassured Charlie, giving the taller’s hands a squeeze before he let go.

While Charlie was changing and Matt had finished getting everything in the hotel room ready to go, something caught Matt’s eye in the hall mirror outside of the bathroom that he hadn’t seen in the midst of his freak out. Blinking and tilting his head to the side, a couple of reddish marks appeared on his neck, one disappearing under the line of his shirt to his collar bone that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than what it was. He prodded at them and found the pleasant soreness to trigger the memories of Charlie’s lips and their experimental ministrations from the night before attached to them.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Matt said to himself, looking through his folded up jacket and hoodie for his scarf to quickly cover it up.

“Okay, remind me to always shower after we decide to rub snow into each other’s hair,” Charlie said as he came out of the bathroom, looking totally normal save for the weird not curls that seemed permanently plastered in his normally semi-straight hair. Charlie perked up next, “Though you can always run those hands through my hair whenever you want, Babe.”

“Yeah, I definitely will,” Matt mumbled vacantly, still looking through his things and realizing that somehow he had a hoodie that was at least two sizes too big. He tried to hand it back with “I think this is yours.”

“Eh, you keep it,” Charlie practically beamed, watching Matt while he nodded and then folded up the hoodie and stuffed it into his bag. Charlie’s smile fell, especially when Matt found where he had purposefully moved the other’s actual sweatshirt when he was in the bathroom, and proceeded to promptly pull that one on.

“You ready?”

“Yeah…” Charlie answered with a soft sigh as he pulled on his jacket knowing he was going to be cold as hell. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

. . .

It was weird when they left the hotel room behind without any sort of parting grace, rushing out to bus call to make it to the venue on time.

It was weird when there wasn’t a set of seats to sit together like there had been for weeks.

It was weird when the lines and drives kept falling apart during the game, even weirder when players started skating into each other on accident or ending up with too many men on the ice.

It was weird when Matt would make a pass and no one was there to take it.

It was weird when Matt watched the third period play out as one of the worst lows for their team after a long winning streak.

It was so weird when Matt had to lie through his teeth at the end of the night in a motivational speech to his team to keep morale flowing into their next few games and intensive practices with the upcoming Beanpot.

It was so, so weird when Matt turned to Charlie on the drive to the airport to find him already occupied, and when they arrived back in Boston, not finding him anywhere amongst the fray to venture through campus side by side to his MBTA stop or to Charlie’s dorm.

All the while, it was Matt’s inability to piece it all together combined with his complete lack of surprise that was the weirdest part of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I hope you all enjoyed that long ~~boi~~ chapter. Only one more week to go, since I'm posting the next 2 chapters together. Chapter 9 is the end, and 10 is a little epilogue cause I couldn't resist. Thank you all for your feedback it has been so kind <3 Also, I'm considering making this into a series with a squeal (or two) and a few other pairings involved, would anyone be interested?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Background details about the AU will always be in the Chapter 1 Author's notes, but let me know if ya'll need any further clarification, or ideas? Always fun!
> 
> We made it! Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 9! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm ~~still~~ crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!
> 
> Also here, have [ Charlie randomly singing Mariah Carey voluntarily](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/post/631083439474475008/debrusks-charlie-mcavoy-nhl-player-and-mariah), for science of course.

“You doing okay?”

Matt looked over at his father from where he’d been skating on the ice that morning in the [Garden](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080233927426048/td-garden-ice-old-seats-winterlude-dont-be), seeing the older Grzelcyk looking at him with a similar concern that probably graced his own features from time to time.

“Yeah,” Matt answered, giving him a half smile. It wasn’t a total lie, Matt was probably the best he had been in a long time. Getting drafted to the Bruins was hard to top, but now he also had a beautiful guy who was into him, for whatever reason Matt still couldn’t figure out.

Oh, that's right—he was still trying to figure it out.

“Hmm, not sure I'd buy that. Must be too expensive,” his dad joked with him, pulling a more genuine grin out of him.

Although Matt had been almost a surprise, with his parents being older when he was born and a decent age gap between himself and his two brothers, his parents had always taken their time with him. They had always given him all their attention and energy as if they were years younger. Age really was nothing but a number in the Grzelcyk household.

“Nothing is really _that_ wrong, I swear. I know that’s hard to believe.” Matt managed to pull a chuckle out of his dad, something he always liked to do while his dad was at work. He had come with him so many times over the years to skate on the ice he had lost count before he could probably properly count.

“Oh, so something good is tripping you up then?”

“Listen," Matt tried, but knew his dad was right, any kind of joke dying out. “...I don’t know how you do that, but yes.”

“It’s so weird when a dad knows his own kid, eh?”

“Wicked weird.”

Matt stopped circling around where he had been skating in front of the home bench, his dad sitting there watching him while on his break. The youngest Grzelcyk moved to sit up on the edge of the wall. “I uh...I met someone…”

There was a weighted pause that followed, making Matt look over his shoulder at his dad who was looking back at him with a soft, loaded smile, finally answering, “Who?”

“They’re-not-a-sh-” Matt rushed, strung together and jumbled, anticipating a slightly different question coming from his dad. Before he knew it, he felt a gentle hand rubbing the back of his shoulder and his dad’s presence standing behind him.

“Well, who is...this person?”

Matt smiled bashfully, looking down and already blushing at the words coming to his mind before he would finally say them. He had faith in his dad and his family in general, knew in his heart that it would be fine, and yet he still found himself taking a few deep breaths to steady himself while gripping at the ledge with white knuckles.

“They’re— _he_ is...a team mate of mine, current,” Matt pushed out, suddenly feeling the heat from that metaphorical spotlight on him once more as he waited for the response that couldn't come fast enough.

His father took one beat, two beats, three, before he wrapped an arm around Matt’s back and stood next to him in a gentle hug.

“He’s nice to you, yeah? You really are happy?”

“...Yes, he’s incredibly kind,” Matt sighed, looking out at the ice instead of at his dad with how vulnerable he felt. He was so grateful for how well his dad seemed to be taking this with absolutely no way to show it at the moment except to keep talking (a testament in itself). “I um...I just, being captain makes it complicated. And then my stupid Anxiety gets in the way sometimes,” Matt frowned, another shot of guilt moving through him at how different and distant things with Charlie had been since they’d gotten back from the Michigan trip more than three weeks ago.

"But we didn't—don’t…” Matt trailed off with his hand touching over his other, dawning on him in a way that it hadn't when he'd told Jimmy. He specifically recalled his conversation with Charlie about Colors.

> _'Do you think there's any meaning behind the Colors?'_
> 
> _'...If there wasn’t a meaning behind it, why wouldn’t they just be all the same or close to it?'_
> 
> _'I mean, what if it was something tied to your personalities too, or your relationship, or maybe it represents something that will happen?'_

Memories of his hands taping Charlie's shoulder; Charlie's hands grasping his panicking ones; both nights almost a year apart, same state, different city, a shared hotel bed in a cold and far away yet familiar place, from careful and scared deprivation to longing and desperate indulgence all came rushing back. All of it was so amazing, so life-changing, so beautiful and precious to Matt, but so...idealistically, aesthetically, plain.

No brush stroke of fate had ever come across their skin, and it hit Matt like a leaf on the wind having finally swayed down to a soft, safe landing, only to be speared right in the gut.

"—Be alright, Matt. Matt, hey, come back down to earth, Bud," Matt’s father's voice faded back into the forefront of his mind.

A wet drop trailed down his cheek, taking a moment for Matt to come to and quickly crush his shirt into his eyes to wipe it all away. “Ah, I’m fine, sorry. I don’t know what happened there.”

“It's okay, it's just us in here right now anyway.” His dad continued to rub his back, which did help to quell the sudden, impending urge to cry on the outside, though the sudden sadness still hung heavy in his heart. “Sometimes, the wildest things happen when you start to fall in love.”

Matt’s head whipped around so fast, he almost got the spins, or whiplash, or both.

“We’re not—"

“Wait, wait, just hear me out,” his dad insisted.

Although that big 'L' word tried to stick inside his thoughts, he forced himself more than he ever had to stay present.

“Everything is _a lot_ in the beginning. Everything is intense. It's like everything feels so important. But people are only built to handle so much. Even a lot of the good feelings and times can add up and take its toll on you,” his dad explained. He paused in thought before he continued, “You know, your Mom and I were late bloomers, and I’m not saying that this guy is your match, or that you have one. I can’t prove that for sure, and you know I’ve always refused to lie to you. But...why should you let a ‘what if’ get in the way of something that is already real and tangible right now?”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows as the information sat heavy in his mind, slowly mulling around. He hesitated before he started, “Well, what if—"

“Ah, see? There it is again.”

“But—"

“No 'what if's'.”

Matt sighed, trying to figure out how else to convey the thought that kept ruminating over and over for the past five minutes of their conversation. “Let’s say that Ch—uh, this guy and I manage to work it out and get together and stay together. Then I meet someone one day who shakes my hand and there it is, whatever Color is meant to be there shows up, and I’ll hate it and resent it and that person, and more importantly, my partner would be devastated.”

“Why?” his dad asked simply, and Matt had to stop himself from looking at him like he had suddenly started singing praises to the Canadiens.

“Because... we would know I was meant for someone else, and he probably was too, then. He already has a Jimmy of his own, yanno. It’d be a big waste of our time and just...end up with people getting hurt.”

“So all of your time before then would have been useless?”

“No, no way, definitely not—"

“And there’s no way to guarantee that you’ll ever find your match. The percentage of people who do is already pretty low, and your Mom and I only found each other by pure accident, years late. Do I regret any of my relationships before her? Not at all. So, my question to you is, why are you letting something that may never happen have power over the things you already have in your life?”

“Well what...” Matt started, and then stopped as he realized he wasn’t quite sure of the answer when put like that. He did feel a little bit silly, especially with the thought of being into someone else. Matt’s chances of that happening were slim to none, having hardly ever had interest in that subject to begin with unless he really, really liked the person as a friend first (or when typical teenage hormones were involved in a very individualistic way, after all).

Then he thought back even further, his hand reaching for his golden cross around his neck given to him by his parents years ago. “Aren’t we supposed to have faith? Isn’t there a plan? I mean, Dad, we went to Church every week for years.”

“Yes, maintaining faith is great if that's what you feel. And I respect that, Son, I completely do,” his dad said, tilting his head with his next words. “But God also gave man free will, a choice within those moving parts. We have to learn our own agency too, and there’s nothing wrong with that, I think. Life is too uncertain.”

Matt looked down at his hands, remembering all of the times Charlie had ever grabbed for them, especially in the last few months. He thought about the first day he met Charlie almost two years ago now, a semi obnoxious but goodhearted teen with more enthusiasm than Matt could really register or try to recognize at the time, the first day of their junior and freshman years and how Charlie had pretended to not know Matt, how all of the ugly parts of their second beginning slowly transformed over time into something incredibly different.

All of it occurred, because at some point or another, they had both actively chosen to take those steps. Even with all of the inexplicable coincidences or situations they sometimes found themselves in, there had been hardly anything passive about their give and take dynamic since they met.

Matt smiled wide as inspiration struck him to his core, that sadness melting away with his newfound perspective. He turned sideways so he could give his dad a proper, long held hug.

“I know you and Mom are going out of town tomorrow, but when you get back, I’m gonna have to tell you about this crazy idea I just got that John’s gonna have to help me with, as long as it goes well.”

“Well, now that's what I’m talking about. I look forward to hearing about it,” John Sr said, a hint of pride coming through in his voice as he returned the hug easily. “Good luck, Bud. If he doesn’t appreciate it, then maybe he’s the one with the problem.”

Matt snickered and gave his dad a firm pat on his back.

“Oh, I’m sure both of us have some problems, but it kinda works in this weird way.”

“How so?”

“So this one time, at practice, a new freshman defensive star was late for the third time that week…”

* * *

“Where the hell are my skates, Vatrano?!”

Normally, Charlie didn’t tend to start his Facetime calls with so much vigor, but he was pretty sure he was going to kill Frank at this point.

“What?! I told you they were in your stall.” Frank’s mouth drop and immediate defensiveness was almost convincing, almost, except when he had to add, “How am _I_ supposed to know otherwise?”

Charlie thought about it a moment, his eyes glancing around the small space of his stall once more, before logic caught up to him, and he eyed his phone suspiciously while shooting back, “Cause you seemed pretty damn sure that they were here when I asked you if you knew where they went. And we have practice tomorrow, if you remember. So, if you didn’t know, why were you so adamant—"

“I don’t know! It's just—the logical place, they’d be…” Frank was so bad at lying to Charlie, he always had been and any trace ability became nonexistent by the time they had formed their bond. Unless it was necessary for one of his own benevolent plots or he was looking out for a friend, Frank was more useless than he let on.

It hit Charlie at the same moment that a smaller figure emerged from the entrance to the Terrier’s locker room. Through the phone, Frank could be heard snickering at whatever stupid facial expression must have been plastered over his features.

“What the fuck did you do now?” Charlie whispered into his phone, mixed emotions pulling through as he recognized Matt anywhere.

“I did absolutely nothing except guide you, young Padawan,” Frank bowed to him, faux sagely.

“Hi,” Matt greeted Charlie from across the room, looking him over in timid anticipation.

“Hey,” Charlie returned, a little withdrawn. Glancing down at his phone he just shook his head at Frank and moved to hang up the call.

“Remember patience, McAvoy! Pait—" Frank got out before the call cut off, and Charlie quickly pocketed his phone.

“Sorry I—"

“Sorry he—"

They both started at the same time, paused, and then smiled shyly at each other.

“...That was my fault, a bit,” Matt admitted, motioning towards Charlie as he took a few more steps further into the space. With his movements, it was apparent he was wearing a scarlet hoodie with white accents and lettering that was much, much too big for him.

“ _You_ got Frank pulling some stunts now?” Charlie asked, the lightest quip in his voice, though all of it felt a touch too quiet, too reserved.

“Yeah, you see,” Matt’s lips turned up sheepish, his hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. “There’s this guy...this really, uh, amazing, patient, gorgeous guy…”

Charlie’s eyes widened a little as Matt spoke, glancing around to see they were completely alone. It was a random Thursday evening with no practice or other school event scheduled, so it made sense, yet hearing Matt saying these things out loud in this particular open space gave him second hand anxiety.

“...And I wanted to show him something, and...God, I’m not explaining this well at all.” There it was, Matt’s classic awkward stumble, but the older kept going as he took a few more steady steps closer. “I just wasn’t sure if he’d, yanno, want to...after a lot of stuff…”

Charlie stepped over the bench separating them, leaving only a few more steps between them that he approached with his own caution. “He’d be an idiot to not _want_ to…he probably just sometimes doesn’t know if you, uh, want to…”

“I _do_.” Matt took a quick step forward to take Charlie’s hands as if the other would run away again, only this time those eyes didn't look so haunted.

Charlie only just caught on that those sleeves looked awfully familiar as they brushed his hands, looking awfully good hung on thinner arms that could maneuver pucks with so much more grace than he’d ever have.

“Okay,” Charlie whispered, letting their hands fold together with a reassuring squeeze, his thumbs rubbing over Matt's knuckles.

“I want to prove it to you, I want to apologize, I want to be better than this, I just—” Matt tried to speak, and Charlie could tell how difficult words seemed to be for the anxious man who was practically shaking in the muggy locker room.

“It’s okay, you clearly have something up that sleeve,” Charlie smirked, eyes glancing at said sleeve literally, and the way he could practically see the relief wash over Matt settled them both into a shared gentle smile.

“I...do actually.”

Matt’s smile turned weird, that specific Matt kind of weird, and a mixed wave of excitement and concern swam through Charlie.

“What—"

Matt pulled a black and gold Bruins bandanna out of said sleeve. Maybe it was out of his pocket and he made it look like his sleeve, but Charlie was still playing catch up.

“Just, trust me, okay? Put this over your eyes, and I am going to lead you to our... destination. I won’t let go the whole way.”

Charlie stared at Matt for a long moment in consideration. The other had put him through a lot in the almost two years since they had met, even if he was realizing every day that a good amount of that was what he had done to himself. The most recent developments had been hard to take in, feeling so rejected by the other after it had felt like they were getting closer than ever before. He’d had to think a lot, about the bigger picture, about their viability together if it was already so hard in college, let alone possibly the pros. And they weren’t even soulmates, which he knew didn’t matter as much as he maybe had thought it once did, yet he had to consider if all of this was really going to actually work out at some point.

Then he looked deep into Matt’s eyes, something he normally avoided with how nervous Matt seemed to get when he looked too long. Matt’s eyes were a gorgeous shade of light blue, and they always had such a quietly intense spark behind them, like a house cat hiding in a box, watching and waiting for the perfect time to pounce, yet also able to come to something far more higher level at the sound of a familiar name. Today, Matt was steadier than he’d ever seen him, so sure, so strong in his conviction.

It sucked Charlie in like the moth Matt must have been chasing.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Matt asked, smiling so hopeful and at ease, glowing but softened, like the full moon.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Charlie smiled his own classic, bright smile and sat down, letting go of their hands and closing said eyes in demonstration. “Do your worst, Grzelcyk.”

Matt chuckled a bit more silly than normal, and Charlie heard quick little footsteps subsequently move behind him. After a moment of silence, the carefully folded cloth was laid over Charlie’s eyes and tied behind his head in place.

“Thank you,” Matt said softly, hugging Charlie from behind and nuzzling the side of his head.

Charlie’s heart fluttered in that moment, heat moving through his core with the deeply seated sensations, and he leaned gently into the touches with his own quiet, “Anything for you.”

Matt held Charlie for a moment longer with a soft hum, emphasizing the point of his next words, “It’s...a bit of a trip, but I’ve got you the whole time.”

“...We’re going across the city aren’t we?”

“Yes…” Matt trailed off, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

“Well, don’t let me wander in front of the green line, or off the platform into the third rail if we go further East,” Charlie joked, his smile looking extra dorky under his covered up eyes.

“You’re taking this way better than I thought you would,” Matt teased back and let him go, making sure to keep a hand on him. He grabbed his bag and then hooked his arm through Charlie’s properly to lead him a bit easier. “We are, in fact, going East.”

“Perfect, Park Ave will be so much _less_ confusing than it already is.”

Matt laughed, leaning into Charlie’s side with it, the taller feeling every bit. “Good thing you have a native Masshole here as your faithful guide.”

“Yeah, that’s wicked lucky,” Charlie teased in that bad accent, with Matt doubling down in his response.

“Wicked fuckin’ lucky, Kid.”

. . .

Moving through Boston’s semi-busy, character-filled streets with no visual input was definitely an experience to remember. After almost falling up the steps to get onto the train car at the Pleasant Street stop, almost falling out of the car at Park Ave, and already feeling flipped and turned upsidown going in and out of the various sections of the station to switch lines, Charlie was pretty much plastered to Matt’s side by this point.

“How much longer until we get there?” Charlie asked for the third time, his head moving in the direction of a crying baby in the back of the car.

“Not much longer, hopefully,” Matt answered him, taking perhaps a little too much delight in the sight. He carefully took Charlie’s chin to pull his face back towards him.

“Yes?”

“Just relax, trust me. I think you’re going to like this,” Matt reassured, giving Charlie’s shoulder a gentle rub.

“Oh I know I will, I like any time with you.”

“Jeez,” Matt’s voice sounded smiley again, pulling an encouraged one out of Charlie in response. “You just never hold back at all, huh?”

“No I do, when I have to, I just don’t like to,” Charlie argued.

“Fair enough,” Matt said, and he pulled Charlie’s hand up to give him a soft kiss to his knuckles.

Charlie paused at the little sign of affection. Those odd little butterflies started to move around in his chest again. He couldn’t help it, still not used to such touches especially with how secretive they’ve had to be. Matt had his head rested on Charlie’s shoulder, seeming so relaxed even though they had to have been getting some sort of stares, right? This had to look like some sort of freaky thing in some capacity, and yet they were sitting in public, arms and hands tied together, practically snuggling.

They were sitting in public, arms and hands tied together…

“Matt?” Charlie asked, his heartbeat fluttering again.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Charlie had to know he was reading all of this correctly, especially since he was now blinded to Matt’s visual cues he had tried to learn and understand and accommodate for so many months.

“Yeah.” That smile returned to Matt's voice, and Charlie felt what he presumed to be Matt’s fingers gently pushing his hair over that was sticking out from under his beanie. “I’m perfect right now. You doing okay?”

Charlie took in a breath, trying to quell the excitement and the small rush of dizziness he got from it all. Finally, he was able to nod with a big smile, “Yeah, same.”

_"Now arriving at North Station…"_

The calm, robotic voice sounded over the speaker as everything pulled forward, save for a strong hand placed on Charlie’s chest to steady him, as the car slowed down into the station.

“We’re getting off here, just wait a sec,” Matt instructed.

Charlie nodded, having learned his lesson already when he tried to get up too quickly at the Park Ave change over, his shoulder still aching lightly.

"Hey, you okay? Your heart is like, racing." Worry returned to Matt's voice, his hand pressing a little firmer to Charlie’s chest.

"Yeah I'm fine, just excited for whatever you've got planned," Charlie reassured, already feeling more steady as his heartbeat seemed to fall back into its natural rhythm.

Now more apt to follow, Charlie got up with Matt’s cue once the car was at a full stop. He let the other lead him off and onto the platform, through the station and the bustling crowds of people. There were so many voices bouncing off of all of the concrete surfaces that it started to disorient Charlie a bit.

“Almost there, Big Guy.” Matt almost sounded smug, and Charlie turned his head as if to ‘look’ at him while still just seeing the darkness behind the makeshift blindfold. “It’s gonna get real quiet in a minute.”

“It’s almost like you can predict the future,” Charlie joked, pulling a soft snicker out of Matt.

Sure enough, within another minute, Charlie heard an elevator door open and then close, and with it, all of the cacophony of sound ceased.

“So it’s somewhere in the North End?” Charlie asked, going back to their little guessing game that he was failing at spectacularly.

“...Technically, yes.”

“What? Uh...I don’t even know what’s in the North End besides the Aquarium. Aw, are we going there? I love that place.”

“Nope, though that might have to be a date idea for the future,” Matt spoke knowingly, Charlie’s mouth dropping open for a moment.

“What?!”

“Shh, you’re going to have to be quiet now, and we’re going to take some twists and turns, but I promise you, really, we’re...almost there.”

Matt started _giggling_ now, and really, really, Charlie was dying from anticipation.

“You’re having way, way too much fun with this.”

“It’s just so good.”

“Maybe we’ll have to do _this_ after date ideas in the future?” Charlie said mischievously, motioning to the blindfold. He could practically hear Matt’s fluster in his chuckle against his shoulder.

“Shh, quiet, you.”

“Yes, sir.” Charlie’s grin only widened, and Matt groaned as he dragged him out of the opening elevator doors.

Twists and turns, another elevator, and some hushed conversation between Matt and another man whom Matt seemed very familiar with given the context of the conversation ("Thanks for doing this for me" "Anytime, just, look, I don’t wanna know about your weird little kinks, Kid, just owe me" "This isn’t—" "She’s all yours, you have an hour") had Charlie almost about to lose all patience.

“Who was that?” Charlie asked, being led still through yet another doorway and he wasn’t even sure which way was up at this point, like one of those weird artsy pictures with all of the staircases going in different directions.

“Just...my brother actually, you’ll meet him properly one day, I promise.”

“Great, I met you brother _blindfolded_.”

“It’ll be worth it, I swear. Cause we’re almost….here,” Matt said, stopping finally.

Charlie paused, taking in just how quiet everything was, how hard the floor under his shoes felt, and something pure and visceral in the smell. Taking in a deeper breath through his nose, Charlie smelled the first snow of the season, he smelled the first time he had ever put on skates, he smelled thick rain frozen in time.

“Are we really—?" Charlie whispered just as Matt untied the blindfold.

A huge, dome shaped ceiling was illuminated and suspended impossibly high, supported by seas of empty black and yellow seats bordering tall glass walls, all bending around the central oval shape of the source of said smell—the [TD Garden Ice](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080233927426048/td-garden-ice-old-seats-winterlude-dont-be).

“Yeah,” Matt said, standing next to him and looking up at Charlie with the biggest eyes, so full of hope and that same quiet anticipation.

“Wow,” Charlie whispered, his throat constricting at the sight.

At first, his mind flashed to the last time he had been here, the Beanpot tournament they played a whole year ago. He thought back to when he’d been so utterly wrong yet so steadfastly heartbroken when they’d lost, and moreover, convinced he’d lost Matt.

Then, he thought about how next week, they’d be here playing once more for the Beanpot championship again. He would be standing with his best friends helping to lead their team hopefully to a victory rather than contributing to a loss. Either way, nothing would change the fact that they’d be doing it all together.

Next, he considered how Matt would be playing there in less than a year, at least with the possibility of being called up if he started in Providence first. He thought about how perfect Matt would look skating on this ice in black and gold, with a professional team, his childhood dream team. He thought about how incredible that would be for the man he loved, and how much happiness filled his heart.

He even dared to wonder about his own possible future here, about his own name across his back in a black and gold jersey, in a city he had once had disdain for that he now absolutely loved, maybe openly accepting him, accepting _them_. He wondered about the dream of getting to stay, getting his own place to live outside of the dorms, getting to really start his life here.

But it was when the smallest voice in the back of his mind whispered little hopes of them gliding out onto the ice together, air moving over their faces in real helmets, playing before national level crowds and on TV, all of the high stakes games and pressures on the line, maybe still playing together on the same line, maybe not, but still.

Together…

That was when Charlie’s legs went weak, letting himself half collapse and just so happening to land on the Bruins' home bench Matt had placed them in front of.

“Chuck?” Charlie heard a soft voice next to him, and he finally turned wet eyes towards the man who had changed so much of Charlie’s life. Matt was sitting there next to him with so much gorgeous concern on his face and both of their pairs of skates pulled out from his bag. “Do you wanna...skate with me?”

“How did you—" Charlie began to ask. Then it all shifted and clicked even more, and he was glad he was already sitting down for it. He wiped at his eyes while he clarified, “Your brother? He works here too?”

“Yeah, he started after high school, my Dad started after high school too, many years ago. I uh...I grew up coming here.”

Matt’s home was here, everything important and meaningful to Matt was right here, and he wanted to share this space with Charlie, together.

“...Learned to skate on this ice actually...” Matt kept talking since Charlie was just staring at him, staring so hard that he was sure he could see straight through him and back again and he had no idea what to do with this reaction. “...Since I was like three or something, I don’t know. But yeah, I just wanted to uh, to share it with you, in this way.”

Charlie smiled so brightly he could have melted the place down.

“So do you—do you want to?”

“What?” Charlie asked, dumbly.

“Skate with me? L-like this?...” Matt asked, the first hint of a quiver coming through in his voice at the possibility of the rejection, all of the weight behind it laid bare in his real moment of true vulnerability. Matt held it steady, even as he shook to his core under that blinding spotlight.

All of it rested in Charlie’s hands; Matt had made his choice already.

“Yanno, together—?"

Charlie stole Matt’s words and that terrified look from his eyes with a passionate, eager kiss, the kind that left them both breathless and entirely reassured, entirely safe. Before Charlie even pulled back, Matt knew in his heart what he was going to say.

“Yes! Yeah, together.”

Matt’s wide, genuine smile broke out across his face, nodding a bit like an idiot but he could care less because Charlie had said _yes_ , and because they were both already just as eagerly pulling on their skates, tying them up at lighting speed.

Moving over the wall and sitting on the edge, they both let their legs dangle for the brief moment before they took their plunge.

Matt jumped first, skating in small, graceful circles in front of Charlie with the most serene look on his face. The younger stared for a moment longer, really wanting to take it in, to solidify every piece of this moment. Once he was ready, he finally hopped down onto the ice himself.

Just as they met and their hands came together, the lights above them shifted and dimmed. Soft music began playing over the loudspeakers, little guitar chords strummed in patterns Charlie had known his whole life. Matt glanced off in the direction his brother was probably in with a small wave, then looked at Charlie with his smile bitten behind his teeth, giving the taller a little shrug.

“You’re not the only uh, yanno, romantic here.”

Charlie just stared at him _again_ , and his cheeks started to burn so red as the familiar vocals of [Bob Dylan](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080255448399872/winterlude-by-bob-dylan-for-winterlude-dont-be) started to sing.

_"...Winterlude, winterlude, oh darlin. Winterlude by the road tonight..."_

“I’ve always loved this song,” Charlie mumbled, stunned down to his bones all over again. “My family plays this all the time.”

_"...Tonight there will be no quarreling. Everything is gonna be alright...."_

“Yeah?” Matt asked. “Mine like Dylan too, and I just, you know, put together some songs, a playlist for this, for you, but I’m glad you like it.”

_"...The angel beside me, that love has a reason to shine..."_

Charlie couldn’t even find words, for once, the pure amount of happiness that coursed through him just made him laugh softly as he laced his fingers through Matt’s.

_"...You’re the one I adore, come over here and give me more, Winterlude, this dude thinks you’re fine…"_

Charlie took a stride out first, pulling Matt along, and soon they were both moving together at an easy pace around the ice.

_"...Winterlude, winterlude, my little apple..."_

Soft smiles were exchanged one after the other until they both caught each other’s eyes, and both of them had to look away for a moment from the sheer intensity of it all.

_"...Winterlude, let's go down to the chapel..."_

“Hey,” Matt said quietly, a soft tug on Charlie’s hand getting his attention once more.

“Yeah?” Charlie asked, letting Matt lead him out closer to the middle so they could circle around each other to a comfortable stop.

“We’re dating now right?”

Charlie...Charlie could only laugh in response, a laugh so deep it hurt his face, and before Matt could ask or start to worry, he pulled him in by his cheeks for another leg-popping, romantic, shattering kiss.

_"...Well, come out when the skating rink glistens, by the sun, near the old crossroads sign. The snow is so cold, but our love can be bold. Winterlude, don't be rude, please be mine...."_

They held the kiss until everything melted away into a singular, hazy focus of their lips pressed together, bodies wrapped in close, hands still clinging to winter weathered cloth.

It wasn’t until the song shifted to something more indie and upbeat that Charlie finally perked, a signal call from back down on planet Earth radioing in. The taller finally pulled back, earning a soft whine from the shorter under him trying to stay in his space.

“Hey,” Charlie mumbled lowly to Matt.

“Hm?”

“...You wanna race?”

The offer was as innocent as the original one Matt had given him two years ago, his head tilting back towards the rest of the rink, this time accompanied with a knowing look plastered across his face.

Matt shook his head in a 'tsk tsk' fashion, another warm smile at play as he mumbled back in gentle admonishment, “...'Do I wanna race?’”

Then Matt took off on a playful head start without warning, finally letting go of Charlie as he flew down the ice in a flash.

Charlie’s own silly chuckle escaped on the edge of his words while scrambling to get his own momentum going as he took off after the smaller man with “Aw come on! You’re already faster than me, Gryz!”

Their laughter filled the arena mixed in with the love songs Matt had picked out just for Charlie, with long arms catching around a slender frame and stolen kisses shared between further rounds of whimsical competition.

. . .

The early February evening gave way to subfreezing temperatures and puffs of grey smoke escaping with every word shared between Charlie and Matt as they wandered through the familiar streets of Boston. They ended up on a bus that just so happened to be pulling up as the snow started to fall. They only half realized it when they were dropped off in [Charlestown](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080248207949824/charlestown-ma-in-winter-winterlude-dont-be), both so wrapped up in each other and the growing, excitable tension rising between them. Their inability to keep their hands off of each other was fueled by an immanent indwelling for any kind of skin to skin contact.

It was only once they stumbled off of the bus that Matt saw he had led Charlie onto his normal bus route he took every day to and from campus; his autopilot had led them home.

“ _Well_ ,” Matt dropped the word like a universal statement, like a high profile indie singer familiar with the temperament of rats. “I guess my brain somehow led us back to Charlestown.”

Fat, fluffy, white flakes were still trickling down in harmless warning, like a leaf on the wind flying free. Charlie watched how they were illuminated in the streetlight, the fluffiest ones coming to rest on Matt’s hat and shoulders.

“Really?” Charlie asked, a hint of curiosity at such things ever evident in his voice. “Well let’s go, I’m totally down.”

“You sure? It’s getting late—" Matt looked back at the now empty bus stop, wondering how long it would be until the next one.

Charlie moved into his view next, Matt’s eyes refocusing on those chubby cheeks and small grin answering, “I’m sure. It’s fine with me if it's fine with you.”

“...Okay,” Matt smiled finally, easing into the tilt instead of latching onto it with a death grip or shrinking away completely. “Well, mine isn’t far from here, lets go, it’s gonna get ridiculously cold soon.”

Matt’s arm was through Charlie’s once more as he brought him along the hilly, familiar neighborhood streets lined with old style, triple decker town-homes covered in brick.

Charlie could finally fully appreciate the sight in person rather than through the limitations of a phone screen. The promises they'd made to each other that night rose to the forefront of Charlie's thoughts.

> _“Do you put much stock in the New Years stuff?...you know, looking back, how much things change in a year.... to a new start, too, with all the possibilities that could happen sort of thing. I mean...like I'm just excited for what this year could bring."_
> 
> _"Yeah, that makes sense. You're killing it in school this year, and so's the team, and you've got that fancy signing in clutch already—"_
> 
> _"I've got you."_
> 
> _"...You do...you do."_
> 
> _"Yeah?"_
> 
> _"Yeah...Lots of changes happening this year for me specifically, some of them I'm trying to not think about, honestly, but others I can't wait for and uh…You're gonna be one of the steady things, like a—er, my constant, I hope."_

“So...I want to be clear about something,” Charlie found himself speaking his mind while they walked. “I know that this is real, I do, and I want it to be what we both deserve…”

“...But?” Matt asked, keeping his eyes forward and not anywhere at Charlie.

“I want to be with you, I don’t want that to change, okay? Like, we’re solid,” Charlie emphasized, “But I think in the pros...we might have to be discrete still, you know?”

Matt caught the hint of sadness in Charlie’s voice, the disappointment there that matched the way his lips pouted out with his thoughts. “Yeah, I know, I already thought about that.”

“And it’s not that I’m not proud, or I’m ashamed at all,” Charlie scrambled, stopping Matt’s movements by grabbing his other hand and bringing those eyes back to his own. “I am over the moon, I’d tell the whole world whether or not they’d listen, okay? I promise you,” Charlie spoke with such conviction that Matt felt it well up in his own chest, burning bright next to that deep pool of emotion Matt had been swimming in all night.

Then, Charlie added the gasoline.

“I just, I have this _need_ to keep you safe. That’s the most important thing,” Charlie ranted, unable to stop even as Matt’s face slowly smiled more and more with each word. “That tops everything, and there’s no one else out yet. If we were the first two, especially as rookies, it could change everything we’ve always worked for. Like, if the world wasn’t the way it was, and our sport wasn't so stupid about this, everything would be different in a heartbeat but—"

Matt leaned up and pulled Charlie down the rest of the way by the back of his neck to kiss him quiet. The taller’s appreciative and surprised sound only made Matt’s confident kiss break from his own grin.

“I would love for you to keep me safe, Charlie McAvoy, and I'll do the same for you,” Matt spoke with a quiet conviction of his own with their foreheads pressed together. “Maybe one day things will be different, but as long as we’re on our own team...I’m okay.”

Charlie listened while Matt spoke. His heart was so full with Matt’s unwavering words and with the way he saw the smaller snowflakes catching in his thick eyelashes when they pulled back enough to look at each other. At some point in time, it had become one of his favorite sights.

“Our own team,” Charlie agreed.

Matt pulled back, smirking at Charlie and nudging his head behind himself.

“My house is that one.”

“We’re already here?”

“Yeah,”

“Why have we been standing out here?!” Charlie whined, suddenly so aware of how damn cold it was.

“I don’t know, you're the one who stopped us,” Matt chirped as he turned around.

Charlie half wrapped and half huddled around Matt while the other led them up to the door, mumbling into his ear, “Stop me from stopping us.”

“Okay, Babe, I’ll totally do that next time,” Matt volunteered back as he unlocked the front door, entirely missing the split moment of Charlie being thrown by the pet name finally being randomly returned.

Charlie rushing them inside had both of them staggering into the first floor of the triple decker home, laughter spilling from them again as Matt kept both of them upright.

“Shit, you okay?” Charlie asked between chuckles, his eyes already scanning the inside of the home he'd only seen brief snippets of in the background of Matt's New Years Eve call. Matt gave him the affirmative.

Charlie took in the deep hardwood flooring throughout the entire layout paired with familiar rich wood paneling on the far off walls of the living room with the partial view of an old brick fireplace, glimpses of a kitchen off to the left with an older gas stove. He saw all of those family photos so much clearer, proudly displayed across the walls with plenty of hockey pictures of both Matt and his brothers. Modest, comfortable, muted colored furniture decorated the space. The stair case seemed to climb up the center of the small foyer with the rooms on all floors wrapping around it. Shoes of different sizes, styles, and colors were placed to the side on various steps, all neat and in their place. Taking in a deep breath, Charlie could faintly smell the earthy tinge of burnt wood and something vanilla hanging in the air.

It was clean and neat, but lived in, cozy, entirely human.

Both of the men climbed past those shoes resting on the steps, hands tangling in each other’s space once more. Matt was suppressing soft laughs with the little kisses Charlie kept supplying his hands, cheek, neck, and shoulder, anywhere that was exposed between layers and layers of melting snow soaked clothing.

Reaching the top floor, Matt led Charlie into the front bedroom that faced the street—his bedroom. He flipped on the light on his desk, bathing the room in a soft glow, and proceeded to empty his pockets like he normally would out of habit and something to do with his hands.

Charlie took the chance to take all of this in as well, having never been let into Matt’s space before. Of course, so much of it screamed Matt: the Bruins and BU memorabilia everywhere, the neutral dark green and blue bed sheets on his mattress, the small cross above his door frame, the random nods to his taste in music and pop culture like a Jay and Silent Bob poster and his stacks of CDs lined up so neatly on their own small shelf.

Yet, there was so much Charlie didn’t expect: numerous pictures and signed notes/pieces of paper from all of Matt’s teammates from high school till now on a cork board above his desk, random gadgets and fidgets tucked into various spaces around the room, handmade inspirational quotes placed in odd spots on the walls, a single stuffed animal sitting on a shelf with other various knick-knacks (that were totally Matt's DnD dice among other things), and a decently sized book collection stacked and arranged into shelves built into a makeshift [day bed](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080227105292288/matt-grzelcyks-bay-window-daybed-inspo-for) space in the central bay window.

Charlie’s eyes looked around at it all, so overwhelmed in the best way as he felt nothing but Matt surrounding him. And still, deep in the bottom of his spine, in the echo of his heart, Charlie felt like he had somehow, inexplicably, impossibly, been there before.

“Well, this is it,” Matt shrugged, turning to look back at Charlie. The expression on his face was so strange, so intense as he looked around as if to take every detail in. “Uh...everything okay?”

“No,” Charlie answered, then facepalmed himself and corrected immediately, “I mean yes, but I just...you’ll think I’m fucking crazy.”

Worry seized in Matt’s chest, seeing Charlie so worried out of nowhere when everything had been going so well, perhaps too well.

“Try me.”

The challenge was gentle as Matt gave Charlie a little nod, coming over to him once more to start peeling off their outer layers of clothing.

“I think...I know I haven’t been here before, but I swear I feel like I have…” Charlie’s cheeks turned red at the admittance, Matt blinking himself at the sight and at the words.

“What?” He breathed in wonder rather than judgement.

“I know it's impossible, I _haven't_ ever been here before but like, Deja Vu or whatever it's called, right? I’m getting that so strongly right now. Like I’ve...dreamt it or something? God that’s so corny.”

“It’s not—okay it’s wicked cheesy,” Matt shook his head with a little smile, his hand coming up to cup Charlie’s full cheek and to try to quell the heartbreaking fear that suddenly laid itself bare there. “I can’t lie to you, but I mean, I have ridiculously weird dreams of my own so...who knows. Life works in mysterious ways or whatever, right?” Matt replied softly, still no hint of judgement in his tone whatsoever.

Charlie’s eyes searched Matt’s, feeling so dumb he couldn't stand it. But when he didn’t see any kind of rejection, nothing painful or sharp but all warmth and comfort, he relaxed once more. Some of that same silliness overtook him again as it had earlier in the night, something that others might refer to as ‘love drunk.’

“Yeah, exactly, it’s like I’ve dreamed about this room before…” Charlie repeated mostly to himself as his eyes and words trailed off.

That’s when Charlie’s brain took a turn down memory lane, trying to remember those foggy, barely there dreams that no longer have tangible pictures behind his eyes but such burning urges in his bones. He looked in Matt’s eyes, took in their light blue color and felt it tinge over his thoughts like blue-colored glasses. He felt it all hit him in another wave of that giddy, love drunkenness as his mouth started humming an old, silly song.

“Are you…” Matt said, tilting his head as a familiar, slightly out of tune voice comes vibrating through behind Charlie’s lips in such a simple, rising melody that Matt knew from somewhere, somewhere old. “Are you humming a song?”

Charlie’s little nod broke his face into an excited grin, that humming giving way to soft singing.

“What is tha—"

“' _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…'_ ” Charlie’s smile was so, so silly, laughing at Matt’s priceless, stunned expression while he started to pretend to ballroom dance with him around the small open space.

“You’re singing [_Sleeping Beauty_](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080258693742592/once-upon-a-dream-cover-by-evynne-hollens-and)?”

“ _‘I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_ _and-I-have-three-sisters-don’t-forget-that_ ,’” Charlie continued, holding out the end of the line to add his little defensive aside while also twirling the other, going full tilt into the crazy. He had Matt laughing out loud as he dipped him just enough to illicit the response. “ _‘And I know it’s true...uh...something...something…’_ ”

“ _‘Visions are seldom all they seem,’?_ ” Matt added in, actually singing in his own shy, barely there, not so in tune voice as well.

Beaming, Charlie twirled Matt again with his own laugh, so excited for Matt’s reciprocation with his ridiculousness. He twisted the other in close then, wrapping his arms around Matt to keep him there, and pressed their foreheads together once more.

His voice returned, slowing to a soft, careful, sweet cadence,"' _but if I...know you, I'll...know what you'll do. You'll…'_ " Charlie trailed, the melody leaving now as his eyes found Matt’s finally, his lips croaking out, "'...Love me...at once?'"

Matt's ability to speak was all but gone, though his head nodded furiously with glassy eyes.

“The way I did once…” Matt’s voice broke around the forced but honest words at the same time that Charlie joined him in sync.

"The way you did once…"

Charlie and Matt both stood there, wrapped around each other, breath coming in soft pants and unable to look away. They could both feel the moment wrap itself around them in its own deeply seated shift. Charlie’s own face broke and reformed around the most serene smile Matt had ever seen, Matt’s own face matching something similar as they both submitted to being seen for the first time—no barriers, no walls, no longer confined 'upon a dream'.[Fade To Black?]

Matt was the first to break, guiding Charlie down further into his space by his face with a gentle urgency. He didn’t know at all what he was doing, for once just going with what his body and heart wanted, his mind finally going idle. He just needed Charlie closer, needed to feel him pulled in, needed his hands touching and pulling Matt in too. He almost wasn’t aware of the way he was quietly groaning into their deep kiss until Charlie returned it hot and desperate against his mouth.

“God, I love you,” Matt found himself saying when he had to pull back for air, running his hands over Charlie’s forearms. “Not just because...but all of—everything,” Matt tried to explain, terribly, pressing in close again for more hungry kisses before Charlie could even speak.

The younger chuckled gently against their kisses in response to Matt’s brand new eagerness and boldness, though he was sucked into all of the sensations again. His arms wrapped around Matt to pull him flush against his body, his large hands moving under Matt’s shirt to press into the lean muscles of his back.

“I—I know,” Charlie found himself panting back in response once he could manage words of his own, trailing his lips down Matt’s chin. “I love you too.”

“I know, I just...before we—I wanted you to know for real,” Matt tried to explain further, his eyes slowly closing with the sensations that quelled the last of those neurotic worries still lingering.

“Hey.”

“What?” Matt asked, Charlie stopping his movements for a moment so they could both catch up with each other and themselves.

“I love you,” Charlie said simply, confidently, the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“I love you, too,” Matt’s face mimicked the other’s, digging dimple lines into his cheeks with it. His hands brushed over Charlie’s cheeks once more, pushing the stupid beanie off his head so that his unruly hair flopped out.

Charlie did the same with Matt, their lips coming together hot and hungry. Charlie’s hands ached and still sought that skin-to-skin contact, finding it snuck under cloth by framing Matt’s sides. He let himself feel the minute dips and smooth skin there, taking in the shape of Matt’s body in his hands. His teeth lightly caught Matt’s lip, dragging out a soft, surprised gasp mixed with a moan from the smaller.

Matt wasn’t ignorant to sexual feelings or urges, but to feel them in this specific way, with someone else, with all of this sensory input was still so acute. Combined with all of the declarations made and all of the bullshit taken care of, Matt could finally let himself have Charlie. He pulled the taller into him, his back hitting the wall behind him with Charlie’s weight effectively pinning him there. The feel of the power behind it was heady; Matt found himself reacting entirely opposite to the last time they found themselves in this position.

When Matt broke their kiss, the parts of Charlie’s brain that were still functioning at a higher level caused him to worry, trying to tilt his head to look at the other. Instead, though, he was met with his own shirt material coming up over his face, pulling a surprised sound from him before he was helping.

“You wanna, you know…” Matt got out hurriedly, already having Charlie out of his shirt by the time he was asking. “Shit, I’m sorry—"

“No, no _please_ ,” Charlie smiled, all delight, biting his own bottom lip as he pulled Matt’s shirt up and off ever so slowly in contrast while he added, “I am completely okay with this, Baby, as long as you are.”

“...Yeah,” Matt’s smile broke out a little coy as he admitted to it honestly and reemerged from under the material. At the same time, the desire was written all in his pupil blown eyes. He ran eager hands over Charlie’s bare chest, over that pair of [cross necklaces](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080251460632576/charlie-mcavoy-cross-necklaces-winterlude-dont), and back up to his face. “I am, er, I want to—I uh,” Matt’s eyes moved to the side, becoming animated and sly as he added, “have the ‘ _stuff_ ’.”

Charlie’s body did the strangest thing.

He broke out into a strong laugh at how damn weird Matt was, with his heart swelling in fondness, and other things swelling with, well, other anticipations. His face pressed into Matt’s temple with it, their necklace adorned chests now brushing as he hugged the other close.

Matt smiled against Charlie’s skin with a hum of appreciation for the whole damn thing, letting his lips trail down his cheek, down the strong jawline to his thick neck.

“What? I do,” Matt murmured innocently, though his own hard on pressing into Charlie’s thigh said otherwise.

“That’s...fuck, that’s so good,” Charlie tried to hold back his own groan. He didn’t expect Matt to be so, so forward if they ever got the chance to do this. Here he was, half naked, so far gone already, and wanting _Charlie_ of all people. His inexperience was evident in the experimental and inconsistent movements of his lips on Charlie’s skin, but all that mattered to Charlie was Matt’s desire so strongly on display without an ounce of shame.

An unexpected light nipping of teeth against his neck pulled a small shiver out of Charlie, his groan lower and more guttural with it, his hands gripping a little tighter to Matt, nails pressing to soft skin.

Matt took his time, finally pulling away with a satisfied grin when he had managed to get a couple good marks on Charlie’s skin, right in the same spots Matt’s had been before. He must have struck something in the other, because Charlie’s hands were moving down to undo Matt’s pants, only hesitating with his face pressed to Matt’s neck to ask him once again if it was okay.

“Yeah,” Matt blushed a little, a lot of his bravado quelled now that he had gotten his little revenge settled and now that they were about to cross that last line.

Charlie’s hands made quick work of pulling Matt’s hips off the wall and pushed his underwear and pants down in one go, Matt’s own eager hands doing the same to the offending material clinging off Charlie's hips. With no barrier between them, Matt dragged Charlie back in at the same moment the taller pressed in close, feeling all of their skin brushing and touching between them.

“Whoa, okay, okay, okay…” Words spilled out of Matt's smiling mouth, followed by soft chuckles at how ridiculously awkward and yet intense it all was.

“Yeah, wow,” Charlie agreed, his own flush crawling over his cheeks matching Matt’s with his own little laugh. “You okay?”

“Yeah, completely, one hundred percent,” Matt rambled further, little nods, everything short circuiting in his brain. “It’s just so good and so _you_ , I don’t—know what I’m saying anymore.”

Charlie's mischievous look returned when he gave an experimental roll of his hips. The sweet friction created between all new sensations turned Matt even more red and pulled another surprised moan out of him that was a bit more prominent than the others. It backfired just a little, with Charlie also not being able to hold back his own little noise at the same time, giving himself away.

“You feel so good already, like I’m meant to be here,” Charlie whispered against Matt’s lips, pulling them both back into long, heated kisses.

Before long, Charlie’s arms circled Matt to pull him off the wall. Matt moved like putty in his hands, letting Charlie move and mold him down into his own bed.

The image of Charlie on top of him once again sent another thrill of pleasure through Matt, watching the other kneeling on the edge from where he was laid out. Before they got too much further, Matt reached into his bedside drawer for his strategically placed lube, condoms, and washcloths, the latter of which made Charlie shake his head in incredulous awe.

“What?” Matt asked, cautiously defensive, made even more vulnerable as he lay completely bare in front of him.

“Always so well prepared,” Charlie teased, taking the things out of Matt’s hands to set them aside.

“Hey you like that about—" Matt started, Charlie’s lips cutting him off in another dizzying kiss, melting him back into the mattress.

“I _love_ that about you,” Charlie corrected, hot and sweet in Matt’s ear, eliciting a small shiver.

Charlie openly explored Matt’s body for the first time, taking mental notes of every little reaction he could entice. He was especially a fan of the way the simplest touches—a nip to his hip bone, a kiss to his inner wrist, hands running over strong thighs—seemed to open Matt up more and more to this needy, vulnerable, trusting side Charlie had only ever caught short glimpses of before.

When Charlie took his time with the other, completely ignoring his own pleasure in the process, Matt felt the heat from that stage light focused on him once again. The difference was he now knew there was no one in the audience. Matt knew the doors were locked and only Charlie and him were the ones watching the show. Charlie’s strong hold on his bones, whispered words of encouragement, the slow and confident pace, all of it served to remind him he had absolutely nothing to be afraid of here.

“You sure you’ve n—never done this?” Matt asked in broken huffs once he could speak again after Charlie’s thick, soft lips had taken him in. The amused hum the other gave sent little shocks of pleasure through Matt he’d never felt before, his moan turning husky with the way his back arched up with it.

Charlie pulled off for a moment with a filthy groan at the sight and sound wearing the most dirty, proud look while watching Matt.

“I never said I’ve never done _this_ ,” Charlie emphasized, laying a few more kisses to Matt’s hips. “But never with someone like you, never _like_ this, and uh...never gone all the way past this.”

“I think you’re trying to kill me,” Matt whined even with the smallest of grins on his face while he said it.

“Me? Do you know how many times I’ve already wanted to just—" Charlie bit his lip, his eyes moving over Matt’s body with all of his salaciousness on full display.

“So do it,” Matt challenged, a bit daring with a raising eyebrow as that competitiveness was reborn back into their dynamic in the most wonderful way.

Just that little sliver of Matt’s personality was enough to make Charlie literally bite his own fist out of temptation for a split moment. Then his head shook with a grin as a bigger, softer side of himself won out for today at least, for their first time.

“Not yet, almost,” Charlie countered, moving back up to kiss Matt’s neglected lips for a moment while he also reached over to the far side of the bed for the lube. “Gotta take care of you first.”

“You do that already,” Matt replied sweetly, his own teeth catching Charlie’s lip in a ghost of the way Charlie had done so earlier. He settled into his own satisfaction at seeing the little shiver he could pull out of Charlie, too.

They moved together like this, taking their time with Matt turning all different colors as he experienced entirely foreign sensations when Charlie prepped him. From the literal to the metaphorical feelings and knowledge that Charlie was actually inside of him, he had to press his face into the other’s shoulder while he teetered on the edge of overwhelmed. The care Charlie took to check in with him through every step, though, helped him stay present, stay safe.

“Someone...did, their research…” Matt panted out. He couldn't tell if he liked this, found it weird, if it hurt a little in a specific sort of way, or if he wasn’t getting much of either sensation depending on the moment and movement of Charlie’s long fingers.

“Are you...chirping me _right now_ , Gryzelcyk?”

“You’re so _thorough_ ,” Matt teased, though a certain wrist motion and finger curl caught the tail end of something _great_ and he groaned a few steps higher than he had been. “ _What_ —...oh fuck…”

“You were saying?” Charlie asked smugly at first, fading to entirely fond. He gasped lightly as Matt continued to moan like that, pulling at Charlie in the process.

“I don’t know, just, I think it’s fine, yeah it's fine,” Matt babbled, feeling overcome with such strong desires again for more, needing Charlie even closer.

“Ahh, ahh, almost,” Charlie, now the patient one for once, really making sure Matt was as relaxed as possible. “Wanna make this as good for you as it can be, Baby.”

“If you keep that up I’m gonna—it’s gonna be _over_.” Worry returned to Matt’s voice for the first time in hours, and Charlie soothed it over again with reassuring kisses.

“Okay, okay,” Charlie mumbled between them, letting up on the intensity of his fingers and solely focusing on opening him up that much further from what he'd tried to learn ahead of time in case things ever got this far. Once he was satisfied, when Matt seemed more settled (and after Matt helped him with the condom and lube with his own gentle insistence for reciprocation that Charlie happily accepted), he spoke again, “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Matt watched him curiously, an almost permanent flush to his cheeks by this point.

"Yeah, c’mere,” Charlie moved back so he was sitting up against Matt’s headboard, his legs slightly bent, patting his thighs invitingly. “Unless you wanted this a different way...I just—we’d be closest, facing like this.”

Charlie was the one blushing now, waiting for Matt to come accept his offer, his gorgeous body on full display.

A fire was lit in the bottom of Matt’s stomach, his mouth slightly hung open in the most attractive way possible, of course. He practically jumped on Charlie next, crushing their mouths together even through the other’s surprised laughs and his own smiles were practically ruining them anyway. He ran his hands over Charlie’s full cheeks, through his thick hair, hooking around the back of his neck and shoulders.

“You’re so fuckin' beautiful,” Matt emphasized, suddenly impassioned by Charlie’s thoughtfulness even through this moment, their first time, something Matt knew most guys got stupidly excited and selfish about if locker room talk had any legitimacy behind it. “God, I want you so badly, please. This is perfect, please...”

Charlie flushed from his cheeks to his shoulders at the sudden attention, so caught up in it in the same fervor that had somehow come over Matt. He found himself nodding dumbly to the other's words even if they were making his heart race in thrilling anticipation.

“Okay, okay, just like this, together,” Charlie barely got out, both of them blindly trying to line their hips up just right, their hands awkwardly guiding each other.

After a couple fumbles, a raw, deep groan left Matt’s open mouth when they finally came together, dropping in volume with his inhale and coming back with another exhale. Charlie bit down on his own bottom lip, his own broken groan trapped behind it.

“C—careful…” Charlie’s voice stuttered while Matt pressed their foreheads together, hugging in so close to Charlie while he continued to concentrate on staying relaxed.

Much to Charlie’s surprise, Matt kept moving, experimenting so meticulously and with such determination until he could finally bottom out. His breathing came harsh and ragged, having forgotten to do so through half of it, with Charlie’s doing the same.

“Holy shit,” Charlie breathed, not daring to move a muscle beyond trying to lay soft kisses on Matt’s face still screwed up in concentration when he could. “Hi.”

Matt finally broke with a tiny smile, giving a soft “Hi” in return.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m..’s weird, but,” Matt tried to articulate, shaking his head as he gave up. “I can’t—words...”

Matt moved to sit up a little bit, Charlie gasping softly again with a hint of that sweet friction his deep seated instincts wanted him to follow through on, but he stayed still, firmly in place. Lidded blue-green eyes continued to watch Matt while his large hands splayed over Matt’s back with his arms wrapped around him again. Something about his movement along with Matt’s pulled a surprised gasp out of both of them now.

“Mm, there, again.”

Charlie wasn’t sure if Matt was even talking to him or himself anymore, but another little roll of his hips in that same way pulled a moan from both of them.

Charlie’s hands found slimmer hips in a firm grip, moving with Matt now at their slow, uneven pace that started and stopped. Neither seemed to care in the slightest. Both men were too caught up in the sheer lust and the bigger picture behind it all. It was evident in how they continued to touch over each other, continued to kiss deeply between their shared moans and hot breath, how they still couldn’t get close enough.

Matt gripped tighter around Charlie, practically clinging to him as he leveraged his hips down with the help of Charlie’s powerful arms holding him steady. The older was so wrapped up in the building warmth, the growing pleasure and connection he felt to Charlie that he had no idea he was whispering the other’s name softly, he was whimpering as new waves of pleasure started lapping at his insides, all the way up his spine, a new sense of urgency matching the way Charlie had started moaning his name back.

“Closer, please,” Matt tried to convey, his words as messy as the way he was finally trying to pry himself out of Charlie’s loving embrace.

Charlie, losing all sense of time and anything other than Matt, didn’t realize at first what was happening until Matt was trying to pull back. Charlie’s chest seized, stopping his movements, thinking Matt was trying to pull away and stop.

“Are you okay? Do you…?" He started, though Matt shaking his head silenced him, and it was only when those hands pulled at his shoulders as Matt tried to lay back did he get it. “Oh! You want, like this?” Charlie asked, bracing Matt’s back easily as he pulled him in to shift them forward, laying him down in the opposite direction in the bed.

“Yeah like, yeah just, please, _more_ ,” Matt was practically shaking apart under Charlie, and it drove him to move his hips on his own now, finally satisfying that urge to take control.

Charlie pulled up on Matt’s hips for a better angle with the other still wrapped all around him. He groaned deeply at how thoroughly satisfying and different this side of the pleasure felt, like an itch that had been tickled and prodded had finally been graced with digging, raking fingernails.

What he loved even more was the literal way Matt’s fingers and their nails curled into his back. That deep shade of red returned with the keen sounds Matt was trying to hide against Charlie. He was practically sobbing with it, making Charlie want to sob too. He felt it so close to his own heart while he tried to kiss along Matt’s face all at the same time for any scrap of closer.

Matt came without warning moments later when Charlie had pressed a hand between them to touch him. He almost seemed to surprise himself, let alone Charlie, as the most gorgeous cry of pleasure was buried into the younger's neck with Charlie’s name strung along after.Those nails pressed into his back while his legs squeezed all around Charlie’s rolling hips. Seeing, hearing, and feeling it all pushed Charlie over not long after, Matt’s name leaving his mouth as his only warning.

Charlie tried to hold himself up above Matt, trying to make sure the other was okay. Matt pulled him down anyway, and Charlie’s exhausted muscles did little to protest as he rested his weight all the way over the smaller man. Matt seemed to hum with it, his lips trailing down Charlie’s jaw weakly, nudging affectionately.

“I...keep trying to think of what to say..."[Didn't mean to?]

“And?” Charlie asked, his brain running on very limited capacity for speech.

“...' _Fuck_.’” Matt mumbled in his best, unedited Charlestown accent.

Charlie died laughing against his hair, only managing to get out something that sounded like “I...love you…”

“I love ya too,” Matt answered back, all smiles against Charlie’s cheek, still running his hands over Charlie’s broad back. He felt a few small lines in his skin, craning his head up and noticed the scratches left there. “Shit, I’m sorry. I um...I think I scratched—"

“No, no it was... _so_ good, I’m one hundred percent fine,” Charlie rambled, finally finding the strength to roll off of Matt, apparently earning a small sound of protest from the other. “Hold on.”

Matt blinked, still a bit dazed, while Charlie proceeded to clean both of them up relatively quickly. When Charlie finished, he let Matt wrap up in him again with a pleasant and content hum.

“I can’t believe that was sex…”

“I know…”

“....I can’t believe you got me in bed with a _Disney song_.” Matt looked so horrified at himself with hints of a smile around the outside, making Charlie snicker.

"Yep, that did happen, yes."

Once they had both settled, a long pause came over them.

“...Practice makes perfect, right?” Matt eventually nudged Charlie’s arm with a zany little grin.

“Well, we would know, wouldn't we?” Charlie asked with a rougish smirk, leaning in to connect their lips once more.

. . .

With his body thoroughly exhausted and his mind resting in a comfortable, numb haze of Charlie and love and life and all of those amazing things, Matt wandered out of bed after Charlie had dozed off before they could properly snuggle after their second go. A couple of texts were sent to Jimmy, mostly letting him know he was right, his little idea had worked out _quite_ well, and Matt owed him big the next time he saw him again. A singular text then went to Frank, something along the lines of how he wasn’t allowed to play any other alignment or role when they did another DnD campaign except for a Chaotic Good cupid-esque matchmaker ever again.

Matt had a large, fluffy blanket wrapped around him as he went over to sit in the [daybed](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080227105292288/matt-grzelcyks-bay-window-daybed-inspo-for), a place he often found himself coming back to when deep in thought. However, there were no thoughts ricocheting around his head over and over again, there were no negative 'what if's', or x, y, and z scenarios that could go wrong. In their place he had thoughts of Charlie floating around, little reminders in his body of the other’s presence. He had thoughts about their future together, about next year. His 'what if's' turned a new corner towards the positive: what if they both really did get signed to the Bruins? Would Charlie finish his college degree and join him in a couple years, or would Charlie end his NCAA career early? Would they be able to keep this happiness going, even when it grew old and content and dependable? What else was he going learn from this passionate, dorky, loyal man who had already taught him so much? Everything in Matt’s head, for once, for now, felt truly okay.

Before Matt knew it, he drifted off there curled up onto his side, watching the snowfall over the Playground out his window. He let the pure, comforting stillness of early February mornings seep into his bones.

. . .

An impending, pinging feeling of wrong aching in his gut was what pulled Charlie out of his post-sex haze of sleep. Blurred eyes blinked open when he noticed the bed felt colder than it should have. A slow sweep of his arm was met without resistance or a warm body, making Charlie roll over quickly and his heart beat jump into his throat.

The moment he saw Matt curled up on the [other bed](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080227105292288/matt-grzelcyks-bay-window-daybed-inspo-for) with the comforter wrapped around him, Charlie was able to breathe easier. That visual cue centered in the backdrop of Matt’s room, with the smell of him in the sheets and the crumpled pile of his clothes mixed with Charlie’s discarded on the floor, helped Charlie to remember exactly where he was, what had happened, and ultimately, that everything was okay.

They were okay.

Charlie stood up off the bed, stretching out his long limbs with a soft yawn before he padded barefoot across the old hardwood floor over to the love of his life. Taking a moment, he noticed it was still dark out, still snowing, and the air was more still than he had ever realized it could be. The only sounds he could hear were Matt’s quiet exhales, and the barely there tinking of tiny ice crystals hitting glass. A soft, contented smile came over Charlie, pulling back even more fond as he leaned over Matt and saw how freaking adorable he was like this. He could have easily moved him back to the reasonably sized bed, but decided against it, instead pulling back the blanket enough to squeeze in behind the shorter man.

The space was cramped enough for Matt, let alone Charlie’s long limbs and bulky frame. Somehow, though, he fit with his knees pressed up against the wall and his head almost craning at a bad angle. But he could have cared less, his arm was around Matt again, and Matt was turning over half awake and mumbling something incoherent as he clung to Charlie that he wouldn’t remember the next day. Drifting back off with the last of that momentary scare giving way to the reassuring comfort of being wanted, Charlie had everything he needed.

. . .

Brightness settled behind closed eyelids, illuminating that comforting darkness of sleep into a hazy orange and brown. Both men seemed roused by it at the same time, in the same easy, deliberate way as the minutes passed.

Matt caved to it first, finally cracking an eye open and seeing streams of sunlight cutting through grey clouds, white frost, and the dust highlighted and suspended in the air. The brightness and dust steadily disappeared, hiding away behind another roll of the sea of grey-white clouds. He felt the lingering warmth of the sunlight on his skin having penetrated through the glass, though not enough to be suffocating, not at this time of year in Massachusetts, in the quiet part of Winter. His body ached with a pleasant residual of relaxation, even cramped and awkward, ached with sleep. Taking a deep breath, Matt realized a heavy weight was pressed and curled up all over his back; strong, thick legs were tangled through his own; a heavy arm was laid comfortably over his waist; and a hand splayed over his chest, across his heart. He felt the presence behind him take in a deep breath, pressing an all too familiar, chubby cheeked face further into Matt’s neck and shoulder.

Matt’s face broke into a lazy smile, his heart slowly filling with the steady, grounding, exciting feelings that Charlie brought to his mind now. After spending practically a lifetime always focusing the future, Matt wanted nothing more than to enjoy this moment exactly for what it was, for exactly how long they could make it last, now, together.

A shift in the smooth expanse of skin that Charlie had been hiding his face against made him lift his head in small protest. His squinted eyes realized Matt had reached his arm out, trailing along to see a familiar hand clearing out a spot in the condensation to see through. Cold soaked, pink fingertips swept over other translucent spots in little silly shapes: a Bruins spoked B, a BU, a couple of stars, a sun and moon, a cross, etc. The pure innocence of it all, the contented happiness still lingering inside of him, the sheer gratefulness he had for this moment and for Matt landed on Charlie all at once in a soft chuckle against him.

Charlie brought his hand up to Matt’s, taking his time in noticing the differences, in really noticing for the first time just how perfectly each curve and shape of Matt’s hand does and would fit into his own, before he finally closed the gap. He closed his larger hand over and through Matt’s, rubbing warmth into cold fingertips while also pressing sweet kisses to the nape of his neck over scarred skin.

The two lovers were so entrenched in each other they almost didn’t notice it. Pressed between all of their contact points, spread out across their torsos, legs, Charlie’s lips, Matt's neck, more visibly their hands and arms, was a slow, steady preternatural manifesting of a clear, ethereal, aquamarine [Blue](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude).

Both Charlie and Matt’s eyes happened to catch the sight simultaneously, both sucking in a sharp breath. Charlie's hand fell limp in his hold on Matt's with the revelation. Matt hurriedly pressed his hand back into the touch anyway, running their skin together and seeing the trail of [Color](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) following untouched spots, existing spots already starting to fade out at the loss. Charlie pressed back to Matt’s skin with the same fervor, both needing to see it actively, to know they weren't going crazy.

Tears instantly sprang from Charlie as the [Color](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) returned again and again.

“Holy shit, I knew it was you,” Charlie breathed with the astonishment and adoration burning in his gut. Matt struggled and strained to turn around in his arms to face him at the same time, revealing the same wet eyes and incredulous laughs restrained behind his bitten lip. “I _knew_ it, I _felt_ it, Baby, I thought I was going crazy.”

When Matt looked up and saw the [Blue](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) fading from Charlie’s lips having brushed over his neck moments ago, Matt’s cheeks heated up in such a strong pink that Charlie had to kiss over it, just had to see a little thing for himself. Sure enough, when the [Blue](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) crept in to cover over Matt’s blushing only a light tinge showed through in a slightly purplish undertone. Charlie started laughing at the way Matt had been holding back himself, still repeating the same mantra as he just stared at Matt with the most awe he had ever felt, seeing it mirrored back.

“I had hoped...yanno, once I got a clue, I felt like it had to be you, too...I—” Matt tried to explain as both of them ran shaking hands over each other’s cheeks, their blue eyes seeking and finding their [Color](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) trailing after steadily, faithfully.

“Why...why the fuck did it take so long?” Charlie asked, the bewilderment all over him, pulling more giggles out of Matt as he started to trail shapes of [Color](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) over Charlie’s skin now.

“Cause we’re idiots?” Matt offered, utterly helpless.

“...Cause we’re idiots,” Charlie concluded, not letting himself question it further right at this moment. There would always be more time for questions, for curiosity. They had a lifetime to figure it out, after all, together.

Matt and Charlie looked at each other then, wet eyes meeting with so much giddiness and fondness mixed in. Their look held so much weight, so many promises and hopes and attachment for each other that words were no longer necessary. Foreheads pressed in close, binding; noses brushed ever so sweet, lingering; and then finally, patiently, their lips met soft and steady in a sealed promise.

Picasso painted bodies wrapped around each other. With warm lips turned [Cool](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude), they parted as one pair curiously, stubbornly, proposed another question.

“...But why the fuck is it [_Blue_](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080222872240128/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude)?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! Thank you all so much who have been reading this story or who ever get this far, I deeply appreciate it so much. Writing this story has been so much fun. Please check out the epilogue as well for a little preview of where future stories could go.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoy chapter 10/Epilogue! If you want you can reach me on [tumblr](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/) as well where I'm probably ~~still~~ crying about the playoffs or one of my other fandoms. I'm always happy to talk to new people!
> 
> The fact that [Charlie did the thing](https://letsbakethatcake.tumblr.com/post/631084233434251264) very recently when I wrote this chapter more than two months ago is sending me. Please enjoy!

"A little higher! I've almost...got it!"

The strained way Matt urged Charlie to somehow magically grow taller while he balanced the shorter man on his shoulders was comical at best and precarious worst.

"How? I—Why do you need _that_ one?!"

"Because it's the best one on this tree!"

Charlie rolled his eyes fondly, straining his body a little more just for Matt. Tilting his head up to adjust their aim, Charlie squinted from the bright sunlight peeking through the intense, fire colored leaves cascading up series after series of branches as far as his eyes could see through his thick rimmed glasses. His footing stumbled for a moment on the uneven ground, both of them clinging to each other while he rebalanced and kept Matt upright.

"I've got you, I got you."

"I told you I could just climb it," Matt pointed out, grabbing onto a tree branch now to steady them again while he grunted with another big stretch.

"And have you break your neck when you fall and ruin Providence for you? Over this? No freaking way."

"Just so you know, I've done this almost every Fall for my entire life, Charlie McAvoy. I know what I'm doing," Matt reprimanded with no ire, quickly changing his tune with an excited "Oh! I think I-I got it, yes!"

"Thank God, I'm letting you down now." Charlie shook his head, ever so carefully moving onto his knees.

Once Matt climbed off of him, Charlie saw the deep level of satisfaction in his smile as he held between his hands one of the biggest apples Charlie had ever seen. Matt carefully put the apple in the ‘one price fill it up’ bushel they had already filled to the top with various apple varieties, some Charlie had never even heard of.

"Are you happy now?" Charlie asked the other, his tone shifting from teasing to affectionate. He ran his hand over Matt's cheek, smiling at their streak of [Blue](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080261814255616/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) that followed.

" _Yes_ ," Matt said emphatically. Matt leaned in to plant a rare, quick kiss to Charlie's cheek, that satisfaction in his gut only growing further when he pulled out that little shy look from the taller for a moment.

"I know we're giving like, half of this to your mom, but what are we even doing with all of these?" Charlie asked with [Blue](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080261814255616/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) settling over his cheek and Matt's lips while he spoke, all on full display.

He didn't care, even when Matt took a glance around to notice they only got a couple of stares from some older folks. He'd taken them out to some town called [Northborough](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080237467369472/tougas-family-farm-in-northborough-ma-winterlude) in who knows where central Massachusetts because _‘They have the best apples you'll ever taste in your life,'_ and Charlie's reply of _'But they're just_ apples _, Babe'_ had not been convincing enough to avoid the whole thing.

"Everything. Apple pie, Apple crisp, Apple cider, cooking with them, eating them just like this," Matt shrugged, grabbing a different apple from the pile in their bucket and wiping it off, examining it closely, and then taking a big bite.

Charlie watched how Matt's face relaxed into the bliss of the taste, and heard the soft, happy sound he gave while he chewed. He once again did not understand this weird Mass thing. He had never even seen this many different types of apples, and even some that were specific to [this farm](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080237467369472/tougas-family-farm-in-northborough-ma-winterlude) only, he didn't even realize every day farmers really did things like this in the first place.

"Okay Bubba, you're so weird," Charlie laughed with his joke, pulling Matt in warmly. "My little freak."

"You're damn right, Forest."

"The only thing I know about apples is that weird game you play as kids with the stems." Charlie picked up his own apple next. "Is this the sweet one or the tart one?"

"That's a Topaz, super tart, also mine. You want the Pink Lady one," Matt corrected lightly, switching out the apples as he asked, "Wait, what weird game?"

"You know, where you spin the stem and go down the alphabet for the letter of the first name of your Soulmate."

A look of recognition came over Matt as he nodded slowly, the old memory dredging up from tiny childhood spaces buried under the present. "I remember now, yeah, who knows if that even works though. Probably just some old wise tale thing."

Matt looked at his apple and examined the stem while Charlie picked up the whole bushel to start carrying them back to the car. His smile turned impish as they settled into a comfortable silence, knowing he could break it with a spin of the stem and an "A…"

"What?" Charlie asked, looking over at Matt and almost missing the little playful look.

Matt twisted the apple stem again, his smile growing a little. "B…"

"Are you really—?"

"C—" Matt smiled even more before his mouth fell open the moment the stem broke off in his hands.

Charlie stopped in his tracks, almost dropping the whole bushel.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"I didn't even do that on purpose! I swear!" Matt defended, biting back a laugh at Charlie's whole face that tilted upwards at the sky, as if asking God himself.

"Okay, that’s it." Charlie set the basket down and grabbed his own apple out of it. "A...B...C…."

"It’s probably just—I don't think...Babe."

"D...E…" Charlie continued, determined to see if fate was really messing with them. Again.

"F…"

"F…" they both said, Matt joining in now.

The stem twisted off.

Charlie was left holding it dumbfounded and annoyed. "What the—"

"I mean, it's not technically wrong," Matt shrugged, weighing both of his hands against each other.

"If fate exists, it exists to laugh at me."

"No…" Matt started, though he struggled to find something good to say in response. "It laughs at me too—"

"God, he even just met his _own_ soulmate. Give me a beak, Vatrano."

"I still can't believe that really happened…" Matt referenced the strange, kismet phenomenon that had occurred on their first day of Summer tryouts wherein Frank was invited to try out with Matt and Charlie for a spot on the Providence Bruins as a free agent after being scouted during the last school year.

"I know! Just bam, one and done, the exact opposite of us," Charlie recalled the memory as well, the happiness they all felt to get the chance to potentially keep playing together, Matt and Frank for their childhood dream team. The intuitive feelings in his gut that Charlie had started trying to trust and understand had been going wild that day, with Charlie mostly chalking it up to their chances at try-outs. Yet, a strange tension had filled the air when they all hung out in the locker room after the try outs were over.

"I mean their faces were priceless, his especially…" Matt smiled, still so amused at least a month later.

Frank had stayed back talking with them and a couple of the other guys they'd clicked with right away, a Canadian kid drafted to the Bruins the year before Matt named Jake Debrusk with an endearing charisma and a purely unique collection of 'Jakeisms' in how he spoke, and Noel Acciari, a Rhode Island native with a kind voice and face that didn't seem to fit in a hockey rink. Jake had finally headed out with plans to hang out with them soon, with Matt and Charlie about to follow when Noel offered Frank his hand in parting, and a plume of bright [Orange](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080242004525056/frank-vatrano-noel-acciari-winterlude-dont) bled across their skin in acceptance.

"I thought he was gonna fall out, I'd never seen him go that pale except maybe when you got your shoulder injury."

"Come on, this is great. He's already so excited, too, what did he say?"

" _'Woo the shit out of him.'_ "

" _'Woo the shit out of him, how hard can it be? Guys are easy.'_ " Charlie spoke in sync with Matt and then finished the full quote, shaking his head. "I both can and can't believe he really thought he was straight. You better look out for Jimmy."

"Right? But yeah, Frank seemed way too invested in us." Matt leaned into Charlie's side subtly as all of his amusement subsided into his happiness for their friends. "Hopefully things will go a bit smoother for them."

"I have a feeling Noel is perfect for him, he's so _patient_ ," Charlie teased his best friend in his absence, though truly, he was so happy for him through and through. He picked up the apples again and kept walking while he spoke, "Still, they'll have their own work to do I'm sure."

Matt's smile softened and he stopped Charlie enough to take the handle on the basket closest to him, sharing the load.

"Yeah for sure. Always gotta work the hardest for the things that are worth it."

"Yeah...we do," Charlie agreed in the same way.

Once they reached the car, they both loaded their ridiculous haul of apples into the back seat.

"Hey." Matt got Charlie's attention when he went to get into the passenger's seat. He pushed himself into Charlie's arms and tucked his head under his chin, now one of his favorite places to be. "Thanks for indulging me."

"Of course, Babe. Anything for you, even weird apple picking traditions," Charlie smiled against his hair, nuzzling there for a moment.

"I just...I'm going to sound a bit conceited, but I just wanted to get one more year in before…" Matt trailed off, not really needing to say the rest.

Charlie thought about it for a moment, already in the process of adjusting to their new team dynamics and environment, to living together with Frank to save on the cost, to the idea that either one of them was inevitably going to get called up first at some point to that new, national spotlight, one day. When that happened…

 _Oh_.

"I know," Charlie whispered, running his hand over his back. "This whole last Summer and even today, I cherish all of our time together. And soon we'll have to find our own ways to keep having it."

"We will," Matt nodded against him, his voice strong with conviction, shutting out any doubt. "As long as we trust each other, keep talking openly, yanno. We got this."

"We do, and if we ever don't, then we'll find it again. Cause I'm in this, completely, no matter what happens. I promise."

Matt took in Charlie's own steady convictions and internalized their passion and raw honesty. He needed that kind of reassurance so badly, and Charlie seemed to need to give it just as much. "I promise, too, even if I clam up or something gets in the way. I'm in this, all of me."

“I know, I see you, all of you.”

“I see you, too.”

Charlie hugged Matt a little bit tighter, a little bit longer, before he finally said, “Let’s go home.”

Both men got into the car and pulled out onto the foliage lined back roads of the smallish sized New England town, heading towards the highway.

“...I still can’t believe you forgot my name,” Charlie brought up after a few minutes of driving for at least the third time since Matt had finally admitted to it, always loving the reaction it pulled out of the other, especially that accent that came with it.

“You were a high school kid! Was I supposed to fall in love with your big head on sight?” Matt countered, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road.

“I’m just saying, I had the biggest crush on you right away.”

“And I had absolutely no clue.”

“You had no idea until your _senior_ year,” Charlie chuckled with that, shaking his head. “You had no idea, and I had no idea that you had no idea.”

“I can’t help it! I’m...slow,” Matt smiled with the admittance, shaking his own head at the same time. He then pulled onto the on-ramp while joking, “What a pair we are, huh?”

“Nah, I kinda threw you for a loop pretending like we didn’t know each other.”

“Yeah that was wicked helpful, Kid.”

“Wicked smaht,” Charlie returned in playful agreement, pulling smiles out of both of them.

Once they got to a steady speed on I-90 heading back towards Boston, both of their hands found each other on the center console, their ethereal [Blue](https://whatthef0ucault-addendums.tumblr.com/post/631080261814255616/matt-grzelcyk-charlie-mcavoy-winterlude) born over and between their skin, joining and settling, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know any respectful feedback, or ideas, or things you may want to see in future stories. I have 2 possible story ideas thought out for these two with more characters and a couple more pairings added in for this little verse that I am starting on soon, though real life makes that process a bit slow. It'll be added to the series when finished. Thanks ya'll <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions, or thoughts, please, please, please feel free to leave them in the comments below! Thank you so much for reading!


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